


The Thestral and the Snake

by BWPR



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, First Love, Hate to Love, Hogwarts, Idiots in Love, Love/Hate, Magic, Riddle at Hogwarts Era, Self-Insert, Teenage Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle Being an Asshole, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23787715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BWPR/pseuds/BWPR
Summary: Hazel had always been different, and even at Ilvermorny she had been an outcast. She had hoped that things would be better after transferring to Hogwarts, and being placed in Slytherin no less. But it is here that she meets Tom Marvolo Riddle, the new bane of her existence.
Relationships: Abraxas Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Tom Riddle | Voldemort/Original Female Character(s), Tom Riddle/Original Female Character(s), Voldemort (Harry Potter)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

Hazel had always been different, and even at Ilvermorny she had been an outcast. Born from no-maj, she had been clueless about her magic until the school had contacted her parents. They had seemed relieved that there was an explanation for her abilities and her odd appearance, that she wasn't actually possessed like they had previously believed. At first glance she seemed normal enough, with pale skin and dark curls, but then people saw her eyes; one crystal blue and the other grey, they were drastically different colors. Her parents had shipped her off to the school, and made it clear that they didn't want her back. She had been so excited, surrounded by people like herself. It was so scary, being around so many people, feeling so much magic weigh against her own, but she had been hopeful. But when she had stepped on the crests to sort her into a house, nothing happened. There were no lights, the statues didn't move; even the Headmaster was stumped. The whispers started up immediately, and she was just frozen in place, praying that something, anything would happen. Hazel could hear people laughing at her, whispering how none of the houses wanted her. She tried her best not to cry, knowing what happened when she lost control of her emotions, but she couldn't help it. She closed her eyes and screamed. She didn't stop screaming until she had nothing left, falling to her knees.

"It's okay, you're okay now," a male voice soothed, and she opened her eyes to find the Headmaster himself kneeling in front of her. Her eyes widened when she noticed the bubble around her, which had apparently protected her classmates from her magic lashing out. The concrete floor around her was charred and cracked, the magical crest that had been so pretty now scarred and broken. The bubble fell away, and it was so quiet. The children who had previously been mocking her were now staring at her as if she was a monster. And to her surprise, all four statues were now turned towards her, claiming her for their house. She didn't understand, but the Headmaster seemed to. He was a kind man who quickly whisked her away, just as the whispers started up again. He didn't chide her on how she couldn't control herself, he wasn't angry that she had destroyed the crest. He was careful, but unlike her parents, it wasn't like he was afraid of her. Instead, it was more like she was fragile, and he didn't want to upset her.

It wasn't surprising that when it came time for a wand to select her, none had. The Headmaster had just seemed resigned, and she didn't know what any of this meant. That was when he revealed his plan for her education: she had to be kept separate from the other students, as she needed to be taught how to control her magic first. They taught her theories about magic and where it came from, how wizards and witches normally tapped into it and controlled it, but her magic didn't work that way. They gave her a generic wand and tried to teach her how to use it to focus her magic, but it always resulted in the wand exploding. Eventually they gave up on trying to teach her how to control her magic and focused on teaching her how to control herself instead. How to keep calm, how to focus on her schoolwork, how to keep herself busy. They taught her everything they taught the normal students, but they couldn't expect her to be able to replicate the things they did. When summer came, she remained at the school with the Headmaster. He didn't have the heart to tell her that her parents were afraid of her, that she wasn't welcome to come home, but she knew. She could feel it.

That summer was the best she had ever had up to that point. The Headmaster had insisted that she try new things. She had tried gobstones, wizarding chess, flying on a broom, and even got to see a Quidditch match. And she even showed some aptitude to these activities and games, much to the Headmaster's amusement. But what appealed to her the most was archery and knife throwing. While she couldn't control her magic normally, in these activities she found herself able to use her magic to guide her arrow or knife exactly where she wanted it. Of course, it took plenty of practice, but she found it calming, found it to be a helpful exercise in using her magic.

But then school started up again for another year, and she felt even more isolated. She found herself growing wary of being around other people, simply because it was too much input. She could hear them talking, could feel their magic in the air, could feel their emotions. The Headmaster was busy running the school, though he tried to make time for her. She wondered if he found it annoying, how needy she was. And then there was the incident later that year. She had been studying in the library when suddenly she was attacked. It was a simple jinx, only meant to torment her. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but this was the first time the aggressor had actually meant her harm.

"What are you, a no-maj? Why are you even here, it's not like you can use magic," the girl taunted, and Hazel recognized her from when she first came here. She had been one of the people who had laughed at her when none of the statues had moved, who had been afraid of her after she lost control. There were so many rumors about her, everything from her being the Headmaster's bastard child to her being an Obscurus, and this girl was behind many of them.

"Why are you doing this? I never did anything to you," she asked, but the girl only scoffed. And even now, Hazel could still feel her fear and anger, her envy and disgust. It made her sick to her stomach, the overwhelming emotions the girl oozed.

"You're a freak. You're worthless," the girl began, and while she continued, Hazel couldn't hear it anymore. She could feel her magic reaching out, could feel it trying to protect her in the only way it could, and she was trying her best to control it. Magic was supposed to be a part of her, was supposed to be something natural. But her magic slipped from her grasp as if it had a will of it's own, as if it was a sentient being.

"Please stop," she begged, only to be hexed again. It took her breath away, and in that moment, her magic exploded out from her. She watched in slow motion as it spread out from her in a wave, throwing the girl back into a bookshelf as easily as it threw a book. When the girl landed, her eyes were closed and she wasn't moving. Hazel was frozen, nails digging into her palms until blood was dripping on the floor. The librarian was suddenly there, kneeling over the girl. But her eyes were on Hazel, and her wand was pointing at her.

"Stay back," she ordered, trying to sound authoritative despite the wobble in her voice. She was afraid of her, an adult was afraid of her.

"What did you do?" It hurt her to hear the Headmaster, someone she had come to think of as a real father figure, sound like that. It was an accusation, it was agonized, it was horrified. And she didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain this situation, explain herself. It wasn't her fault, she couldn't control her magic, he knew that. Why wasn't he telling her that it was okay, that it was an accident? But they never told her about what happened with the girl after she ran away to her room, but she could feel the moment the life left her broken body. And Hazel had to live with the fact that she had just killed a classmate. It was hard to sleep that night and every night since then, nightmares of the girl and of her hurting people plaguing her dreams.

After that, the Headmaster invited a renowned professor from Hogwarts to see her, a man who called himself Albus Dumbledore. He was an older man, unassuming at first but with sharp blue eyes hidden behind his glasses. He offered her lemon drops and seemed content to just talk to her, even though she knew he had been told about the incident. She slowly warmed to the man, though she was still on edge given that she could feel his own wariness.

"So, can you tell me what happened in the library?" he finally asked, causing her to flinch. She couldn't meet his eyes as he sat there, waiting for her to explain, waiting for her to justify killing someone.

"I didn't mean to," she whispered, head down. And she really hadn't meant to. It hadn't been her, it had been her magic. The girl had been a bully, but she hadn't deserved her fate. Hazel didn't even know her name, didn't know if she had friends or a family who would miss her. The thought made her physically ill.

"The Headmaster tells me that you are rather good at archery. Can you show me?" he asked next when it was clear that she wouldn't be talking anymore. And while she was nervous about letting someone new watch her, it was highly preferable to sitting here in silence. She nodded slowly, leading Dumbledore out to her private archery range; a single faded target where no other students ventured. It took her a moment to calm down and focus, missing the first few times. But then she took a deep breath, really felt the tension in the string under her fingers, felt her magic seep into the bow. She envisioned the arrow hitting the bullseye, and then she let it happen. After awhile that grew too boring, so she purposely aimed away from the target. She smiled as her next arrow curved gracefully, guided by her magic into the bullseye yet again. The professor clapped from behind her, startling her as she had momentarily forgotten his presence.

"Hazel, it would seem that you are very strong. Most wizard's magic comes from within them, allowing them to control how much they use at a given time. They use their wand to focus that magic to perform spells. But your magic resides outside of yourself and seems to have a mind of it's own. You're afraid of it, so you can't control it," he explained gently, and while it seemed like he was leaving some things out, it made sense to her. However, he had no solutions for how to let go of her fear, how to gain control. He excused himself to talk to the Headmaster, and she didn't see him again. She was anxious when the Headmaster summoned her to his office. He had never formally summoned her like this, and she didn't know what this meant. Was she in trouble? Was she being sent to jail?

"I'm sorry Hazel, but as long as you can't control your magic, you're a danger to the other students here," he began, and she could feel her heart sink, "But I have been in communication with some wizards who think they may be able to help you." She didn't get a choice, she didn't get the chance to argue his decision, when another man walked into the office. Just like that, she was handed off. Scholars tried to learn about how her magic worked, doctors tried to analyze her, and eventually it felt like she didn't even exist. She didn't belong anywhere, she didn't have any belongings. Some of the people were nice, some of the people were mean, but all of them gave up, just like everyone else in her life. She began to lash out after a year of this treatment, but they still couldn't restrain her magic any better. Some of them thought she was just becoming a teenager, some of them thought she was finally letting out whatever monster resided in her. She injured many of them, sometimes on accident, sometimes on purpose, but she managed to not kill anyone again.

Finally, she was passed over to a shaman. He was a kind but strict Native American, and he could even transform into a coyote. He called her Ghost Eyes, a nickname based on her different eyes. He said that they would allow her to see heaven and earth at the same time, whatever that meant. He spent the most time with her, put in the most effort. She came to respect and trust him, and he in turn was the first person able to make a difference. He taught her how to mediate, how to communicate with her magic. He taught her not to fear it, how to accept it. From there, she was able to learn how to use it her own way. She honed her ability to use her magic to analyze her surroundings, to use it as another sense, as an extension of herself. He let her be a person again; he didn't keep her confined to the house, he let her read all the fictional books she wanted, he let her dream again.

She cried the first time she was able to perform a spell. Wandless magic was supposed to be difficult, but given how her magic behaved, it was easy once she figured it out, especially with the shaman's help. It almost felt like she had a home, like she had a chance at being a great witch. She was upset when it was decided that she needed to return to traditional schooling now that her magic was under her control. She had thought that he had cared for her, that she would stay with him at least until she was an adult. Her heart broke all over again as she could only assume that he just didn't want her here anymore. Imagine her surprise when Dumbledore was the one who came to retrieve her. She had thought that she would be returning to Ilvermorny, but that apparently wasn't the case. Hazel would be attending Hogwarts as a fifth year, and would begin school at the beginning of the term on September 1, 1942.

Hazel didn't know what to expect upon arriving in Diagon Alley, but this definitely wasn't it. Everything was so loud, and there were so many people that it made her head spin. After being isolated in the desert for so long with only one other human being, this was overwhelming. It probably didn't help that they had apparated here rather than use literally any other form of travel. She had to focus on using what she had learned to bring her magic in, to sort through the chaos. She wound it tighter and tighter around herself until it hurt, but it made everything else go away.

"Ms. Walker, is everything okay?" Dumbledore asked, clearly concerned. She couldn't tell if he was concerned for her well-being or for the people around them, but it didn't really matter.

"I'm fine, it's just a lot," she explained, taking another moment to adjust. He didn't push her or try to rush her; he merely stood next to her, a silent guardian.

"We'll pick up your robes and books first," he decided once she nodded, leading her through the crowd tentatively, "If you see anything that catches your eye, please let me know."

"Have you given any thought to what house you would like to be in?" he asked conversationally as they collected her books. It was a lot to carry, but he didn't seem to mind as the books disappeared into his bag.

"Not really. After the last time I was sorted, I really haven't given it much thought." He hummed, indicating that he had heard her. She knew that he had been informed of the incident, but he didn't bring it up further.

"How about what classes you're the most excited for?" he tried next, surprising her. She had thought that he would give up talking to her, given that she clearly wasn't used to being social.

"Well, I'm very excited for Transfiguration," she began earnestly, earning a smile from the professor, "But I think I'm most interested in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Are you very good at it?" There was no judgement in his voice, he seemed actually curious. But there was a sharpness to his gaze that made her shiver, as if something about her answer may give something away.

"I don't know, I never got to learn it during my time at Ilvermorny, and none of my private teachers specialized in it. But from the books I've read over it, it seems like my wandless magic will be perfect for dueling," she explained proudly, having read about how all the great witches and wizards used wandless magic.

"Speaking of your wandless magic, I would like to get you a wand," he began, continuing when he saw the displeasure in her expression, "And before you say anything, I don't expect you to stop using your wandless. But it may help you fit in better if you would use a wand."

"I can't use a wand, I've tried before," she muttered, doubtful and pessimistic.

"It can't hurt to try again," he mused, eyes twinkling in excitement. And she couldn't bring herself to argue anymore, giving into the old man's whims.

"I guess," she conceded. He had been guiding her towards the wand shop when a window display caught her eye. There, front and center, was a bow and arrow set. It called to her like nothing before, dark blue paint sparkling in the sunlight, with intricate white carvings. It was sturdy but flexible, she just knew it. The bow string was a beautiful ivory, strung tight enough that she could almost feel the tension under her fingers.

"Did you see something?" Dumbledore asked suddenly, breaking her gaze away from the display. She was surprised to find that she had halted upon spotting the set, gaining his attention. She quickly shook her head in denial.

"Ms. Walker, please show me," he urged softly, and the temptation was too much for her to resist.

"I just thought this bow and arrow set was cool," she shyly explained, pointing to the set. Every time she looked at it, she felt the urge to feel it in her hands.

"Do you know what these carvings mean?" and when she shook her head, he explained, "They tell the story of the Greek Goddess, Artemis. She was a huntress, and she is often affiliated with the moon." Hazel was engrossed in listening to the mythology, as excited as any child being told a story. He told her about Artemis and Apollo, about what they stood for, about their symbols and worship.

Imagine her surprise when he bought the set for her, along with the matching tarot card set and throwing knife set. She hadn't even known about the matching sets, but the man was correct in his assumption that she liked them too. She had never had a tarot card set of her own, though one of her teachers had taught her the basics of ways to use them.

"You didn't have to do that," she stated, feeling guilty that the professor had spent his own money on her, even as she was tracing the carvings over and over again reverently.

"I wanted to. You are quite talented at archery, it would be a shame if you didn't have a good bow," he explained, as if it was the right thing to do and not like he was doing her a favor, to her relief. After that, she was easy to guide into the wand shop, Ollivanders if the sign out front was correct.

"Hello, Albus! What a wonderful surprise, I haven't seen you in years, not since you brought Tom in for his wand," the man behind the counter gushed, before focusing his warm gaze on her, "And who might this be?"

"Hazel Walker, sir," she introduced politely, stiffly, which made him laugh in delight.

"Well hello Ms. Walker, I'm Garrick Ollivander. Pleased to make your acquaintance," he shook her hand, his grip not too tight on her own, "So what kind of wand are you looking for?"

"Ms. Walker's magic is rather unique, so she'll need a wand that can handle it," Dumbledore explained, and the man seemed perplexed as if this was a challenge.

"Here, give this one a spin," he said, offering her a wand. It was simple, about 9 inches of dark wood that fit well in her hand. But even before doing anything, the wand felt almost empty to her, like there wasn't an answering magic to her own. The moment she flicked the wand, it exploded in her hand, showering the three of them in splinters. Hazel was mortified.

"I see what you mean!" Ollivander laughed, as if he didn't mind her destroying something he had made, "I think I have just the thing, it may be a bit of a long shot though." This wand was longer, with carvings that could only be seen up close. It was a warm brown color, and the stain used on the wood made the grain stand out. It was smooth under her fingers and flexible in a way that reminded her of a bow. To her surprise, when she tentatively waved the wand, the store was flooded with a blue light. She could've swore she saw something with wings in the light, but it was gone before she could get a good look.

"13 inches long, hazel wood, and a thestral tail hair core," the wand maker explained, something like awe as he took in how the wand chose her. She found it almost ironic that the wood would be that same as her namesake, but she didn't comment.

"Incredible," Dumbledore agreed, something changing in the way he looked at her. It was more considerate now, less analytical. And Hazel couldn't believe how this wand felt to her, felt with her. It was like the wand and her magic harmonized, resonating perfectly with each other. It took her breath away, how she could feel the wand even once she put it down, just like with her magic. She almost just knew that if she called for it, the wand would come to her.

After they had gathered the rest of the supplies she would be needed, they exited the center of the alley, heading towards some carriages. She couldn't help but marvel the animals that were attached to the carriages.

"What are those creatures?" she asked quietly as they approached, not wanting to spook them.

"They are known as thestrals, their tail hair is the core of your wand," he explained, something like irony behind his voice. The thestral was a magnificent creature, pure black with the body of a horse but with the wings of a bat. It looked skeletal and leathery, but up close she could see it had a layer of peach fuzz.

"Hello there," she cooed, allowing the horse-like animal to sniff her hand. It must've deemed her acceptable, as it nuzzled it's muzzle against her hand, making her giggle. It was almost an instinct to reach out with her magic, which it seemed to sense. She could feel it reach out in return, curious and cautious but without fear. It was incredible, the way it pressed against her magic like it had with her hand.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, and it somehow understood her if the surge of pride and fondness was any indication. It briefly sniffed her pocket, the one where her wand resided, and bowed it's head, allowing her to pet it. Hazel wished that she had a treat for the creature, but alas she was lacking any food.

"You can visit him again when you have some free time, they're stabled at Hogwarts after all," Dumbledore brought up, his subtle way of saying that they needed to get going. Reluctantly she parted from her new friend, joining the good professor in the carriage, but not before making a promise to come and visit the thestral sometime. It was exhilarating, the takeoff and then flying. Watching the thestal fly was something else, the way those wings spread out to their full length.

"Thestrals can only be seen by those who have seen death," he brought up at some point, which dampened her mood significantly as they both knew whose death she had witnessed, had caused.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he whispered as the castle came into view from the fog, as if it were a dream.

"It's incredible. I never could've imagined a school larger than Ilvermorny," she sighed, smiling so hard that it hurt her face. It was nothing like anything she had ever seen before, imposing and grand, ancient and magical. They circled the the grounds a few times as he let her indulge in her sightseeing. Once they landed, it took her knees a second to stop shaking, but she was still beaming. She was told to leave her belongings in the carriage, as it would be handled by the house elves. While she was reluctant to part from her new belongings, she trusted the professor. He lead her through the main doors, guiding her through hallways and staircases until they came to a brilliant golden statue. He whispered a password, and suddenly the statue moved to reveal a staircase. They entered the Headmaster's office, and he was quick to stand up and come to meet them.

"Ms. Walker, may I introduce you to Headmaster Dippet," Dumbledore formally presented her to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He was a rather bland man compared to the professor, but his smile was warm and there were no ill intentions behind his gaze.

"Hello sir, I'm Hazel Walker, thank you for having me," she introduced herself, offering her hand to the older gentleman for a handshake, which he accepted without hesitation.

"It's my pleasure, Ms. Walker. I look forward to having you as a student at this fine establishment." His words were flowery, but not necessarily in a negative way. He turned to Dumbledore, and she understood that she was being dismissed. She took a seat near the door of the office, waiting patiently for the men to finish their conversation. After that, Dumbledore lead her towards the cafeteria, which he referred to as the Great Hall. He even showed her the secret entrance to the kitchen on the way, though he was careful to mention that the house elves were rather territorial of their space in the castle.

"You'll be sorted after the first years," he ran her through what was going to happen, "Do you have any questions for me currently?"

"What if something happens again?" she asked quietly, nervous and oh so hopeful.

"Everything will be fine," he assured, before he gently pushed her to join the back of the line of first years. She was the only older kid in the line, alone at the very end. As anxious as she was, it was quite a show to watch all the first years be sorted into their respective houses. And the Great Hall took her breath away, an endless night sky for a ceiling, with so many floating candles that there was no need for lights. It was clear that the student body had spotted her, but they were polite enough to not stare, instead focusing on the first years as they should. And then, finally, she was the only person standing at the front of the room.

"Hazel Walker, fifth year transfer student," the professor called from his list, his voice echoing in the silence of the room. She sat on the stool carefully, as if it would bite her. She tried not to cringe as the sorting hat was placed on her head, but it was hard not to.

"Hmm, where to put you, where to put you," it mused aloud, all the students listening to it's words intently.

"Don't be so afraid, my dear girl, you'll fit in just fine here," it soothed, reading her emotions, "I think I know where you'll flourish."

"Slytherin!" it announced, almost deafening her. Then suddenly the weight of the hat was gone, and she couldn't help but beam. She had been sorted! Nothing had happened! She scrambled over to the table of cheering students, eager to no longer be the center of attention. While at first unsure of where to sit, one of the boys managed to get her attention. He looked to be around her age, and, with his platinum blonde hair, he stood out among the others. He caught her eye and waved her over, indicating she should sit next to him. And, eager to not sit with the first years, she did.

"Thank you," she whispered as she took a seat on the bench among strangers, the boy who had waved her over nodding slightly in acknowledgement that he had heard her. She was instantly uncomfortable upon sitting down, though she couldn't quite tell why. Maybe it was because she was surrounded by males, maybe it was the way several girls, from her own house and from others, glared at her, or maybe the general darkness that lingered over this group; in any case, something felt wrong.

"Hazel, right? I'm Abraxas Malfoy," he introduced himself, "And these are my friends; Avery, Lestrange, Nott, Dolohov, and Riddle." He pointed at each of the males as he said their last names, and she struggled to remember their names and faces. They were all very similar appearance wise, with dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. The last two, Dolohov and Riddle, seemed off in some way, and she wondered if they were the cause of her feeling so ill at ease.

"It isn't everyday we get a transfer student, especially one as pretty as yourself," Lestrange flirted, which made her blush. She hadn't interacted with anyone her own age in years, let alone a male. He was around her height, and his hair was fluffy with perfect spirals, almost as if had used curlers. A smirk seemed to be permanently glued to his face, with eyes that sparkled mischievously.

"Your eyes are so cool, what charm is that?" Avery asked, "I may have to try it sometime." He seemed genuinely interested, paying attention to her face in a way that told her he wasn't just looking at her eyes.

"It's actually not a charm, my eyes are just different colors," she explained awkwardly, glancing from face to face in search of any displeasure. Instead, most of them looked awed. Abraxas was about to speak when suddenly his mouth snapped shut, and she followed his gaze to the male sitting directly across from her.

"Heterochromia is the term," the tallest male explained, "I'm Tom Marvolo Riddle, the fifth year male prefect." For some reason he felt the need to introduce himself again, this time with his full time. She could tell he was arrogant, and the look in his eyes was so calculating that it made her want to run.

"What's a prefect?" Her question came out dumbly, but they didn't seem to mind. Other than Riddle of course, he seemed to take it personally.

"Ah, did they not have prefects at your previous school?" he asked, though his question had disdain carefully hidden behind goodwill, "Prefects are leaders of sorts, students with extra responsibilities that include patrolling the hallways and keeping other students in line."

"So a hall monitor?" This time all the boys couldn't help a chuckle or smirk at their friend's expense, who definitely took it as an insult. The glee on their faces instantly disappeared as they took in the pinched expression on Riddle's face, but Hazel was still satisfied with getting a rise out of him for some reason.

"Not quite. There are only two prefects per year, one being male and the other being female. It's an honor only given to the most respected students."

"So, your last name is Walker?," Nott asked, clearly trying to change the conversation, "I've never heard it before." And Hazel didn't really understand why they were so focused on last names here, but she figured it must be a cultural thing.

"I'm from the United States, so that would make sense," she explained, though they were all aware given her accent.

"Oh, did you go to Ilvermorny?" While the question was asked in good faith, she didn't really feel comfortable telling them about how she hadn't been a student there for years.

"Yes," she confirmed but didn't elaborate, which she was sure they picked up on.

"Isn't that the one that was co-founded by a muggle?" Dolohov asked, the first time he had spoken this evening. His voice was low and quiet, with something like disgust behind his question.

"A muggle?" she asked tentatively, another term that she was unfamiliar with.

"Someone born without magic," Riddle explained, something like a smile on his face, as if he reveled in her ignorance.

"Ah, we call them no-maj," she explained, "And yes, that's the one."

"You must be glad to be going to Hogwarts now then, and to have been placed in Slytherin no less," Dolohov asserted, something zealous in his eyes that scared her to dare contradict him.

"Of course," she agreed meekly.

"Here, you haven't eaten yet," Abraxas realized, as they had been interrogating her since she sat down, "This is my favorite, lamb chops with a demi-glace and roasted potatoes with sweet peas." He took it upon himself to load up her plate with the aforementioned food, way more than she could possibly eat, but she appreciated it. She hadn't really known what to start with given the spread in front of her, much less what meats paired best with what sides.

"I'm sure Ms. Walker can fill her plate herself, Malfoy," Riddle chided, and she was disliking him more and more as the feast continued.

"No, I don't mind at all," she disagreed, earning a sharp look in return, "Thank you, Abraxas, this looks delicious." As she ate, the boys talked among themselves. Abraxas, Lestrange, Nott, and Avery seemed the closest, with Dolohov pleased with listening rather than talking. And then there was Riddle, who was in some way separate from the rest of them.

"Come on, we'll guide you to the dungeons," Riddle decided for them all as the meal came to an end and people began to disperse. They walked in an odd formation, with Riddle alone in front of them and the others walking in small group behind him, as if this was follow the leader.

"The dungeons?" she whispered to Abraxas, not wanting to give the prefect the pleasure of explaining anything else to her tonight.

"It's where the Slytherin common room and dorms are located. You really don't know anything about Hogwarts, do you?" He was clearly amused, but he didn't make fun of her.

"Not really," she confirmed, embarrassed. But it wasn't like she had any warning before being brought here, any chance to look into the school.

"I can try and give you a run down, if you'd like," he offered, a bit awkward as if he was asking her on a date, but she was sure it was just because his friends had perked up, clearly listening to their conversation now.

"That'd be great, thank you so much," she made sure to gush, going as far as to smile sincerely at the now blushing blonde.

"Wow, getting a new girlfriend so soon, Abraxas?" Lestrange taunted, wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulders. The others joined in with their teasing, though Riddle merely raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at their behavior.

"Ms. Walker, I'm glad I could catch you before you retired," Dumbledore said, suddenly appearing from a hallway she hadn't noticed, startling them all, "Could I have a word?"

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore," she agreed lightly, as she had been expecting him to check in on her again, "Abraxas, do you mind waiting up for me?"

"No problem. And don't forget the password to the common room is Salazar," he reminded her sternly despite his smile, as if he could tell that she had already forgotten. With that, the group continued down the hallway towards the dungeon, Riddle turning and giving them a lingering stare before he disappeared into the darkness. They stood there in silence for a moment, waiting until the echoes of voices disappeared before beginning their conversation.

"How are you settling in so far?" he asked as they moseyed down the hallway in the same direction the other Slytherins had gone.

"I mean, I managed to make some friends, I think," she began optimistically, before her tone became uneasy, "But I'm not sure about sleeping in the dorm." And he knew what she really meant; she was afraid of trusting other people around her while she slept, she was afraid of hurting anyone with her magic should she have a nightmare.

"If there's any problems, I can certainly arrange for you to have a room to yourself," he offered, though it was clear he wanted her to at least try to adjust to the dorms first.

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you." And she would. But Hazel wanted to try to be normal first, wanted to try and live like everyone else. If she had a single room, everyone would think her privileged in some way, just like they had before.

"I'll bid you goodnight then," he said with a warm smile, guiding her to the section of stone that would open to reveal the common room, "And Ms. Walker? I would highly suggest that you be more careful about who you become friends with." And with that, he was gone before she could ask him what he meant. She took a moment to steal herself before giving the password, the wall disappearing in front of her to reveal the common room.

She was stunned upon walking into the room. Green and silver adorned every surface. There were plush couches and chairs, a huge fireplace, and stained glass windows that looked out onto a lake. It was opulent and luxurious, but it still managed to feel cozy despite being located in a dungeon. She found Abraxas waiting for her in an alcove on a loveseat, and she didn't hesitate to take the seat next to him.

"This place is incredible," she mused, wondering just how many times her breath would be taken away today.

"I'm glad you like it," he chuckled, as if this was normal for him. And to be fair, it probably was.

"Okay, so let me give you an idea of how Hogwarts works-" From there, he explained everything. The Founders, the hierarchy of the Head Boy and Girl and the prefects, what each house stood for, what they learned in each class and some details about the professors, the ghosts that haunted this school, and even how the staircases worked. By the end, she found herself drooping against him, intent on listening to every word but fading fast. It had been a long day, a long week, a long year. She didn't know why she was so comfortable here, leaning against a boy that had been a stranger mere hours ago, surrounded by green and silver velvet.

"Am I boring you, Princess?" he asked after he was done, pretending to be offended.

"I'm no princess," she sassed in return, sitting up a bit, "And no, I'm listening."

"Are you sure? Because you-"

"Malfoy," a voice suddenly interrupted, making both of them jump apart and give attention to the person who had disturbed their little corner of the common room, "It's almost curfew." Of course it was Riddle, staring down at them judgmentally with his emotionless black eyes.

"Shit, I was supposed to-" Abraxas began, eye widening in panic.

"It's okay, go," she offered, to which he accepted, running up the stairs to the boy's dorm as fast as he could. She waited for Riddle to follow him, but he seemed content to stand there, blocking her from leaving the alcove with his body.

"Has Hogwarts been to your liking so far, Ms. Walker?" he asked casually, as if he didn't have any ulterior motives and as if she didn't know this.

"Yes, it's incredible. I can't wait to explore a bit tomorrow after classes. Abraxas told me-"

"I trust that Malfoy has been helpful in educating you more about this school," he cut her off, clearly only interested in getting to what he actually wants to talk about.

"Definitely," she grit out, wearing her fakest smile like a shield.

"If you don't mind my asking, what did Professor Dumbledore want to talk to you about?" And there it was, his actual question. He leaned over ever so slightly, looming over her. It was intimidating, just as he had intended. But he still didn't give himself away, didn't act in any way that could be deemed improper or threatening. He was damn good at this.

"I actually do mind, it's personal," she chided, and watched in wonder as his pleasant demeanor disappeared when he didn't get what he wanted. They had a short staring contest, each of them challenging the other. But he seemed ready to cut his losses for now, though she knew that he would come back when she least expected it.

"Very well. You should get going to bed, Ms. Walker." It sounded like a dismissal, like an order, and she couldn't help but wind him up just a little more.

"I think I'll sit out here a bit longer, if that isn't a problem of course." Those eyes widened ever so slightly at her insolence, nostrils flaring in turn as he stood there like a statue. Needless to say, she was terrified when he was suddenly calm, a devious look in his eyes.

"It's not a problem at all. In fact, I think I'll join you." He didn't hesitate to take the seat directly next to her. And while she was too prideful to get up and leave, she couldn't help but scoot over until she was pressed into the arm of the loveseat. He seemed to relish her awkward position, pulling a book from his robe pocket and beginning to read as if he wasn't the spawn of satan. She hated to admit it, but he had won this round. She sat there for awhile, glaring into the fire as he sat next to her, relaxed as one could be. He was even manspreading, his long legs causing his knees to intrude into her personal space. Hazel decided that if she was stuck here, she may as well be doing something productive. She began to move, sliding off her shoes and bringing her legs up under her, sitting crisscross now. This position caused her knee to come in contact with his, but both of them were too stubborn to shift away. The moment she had moved, Riddle had paused in his reading, watching her every movement with sharp eyes. She took a deep breath and rested her hands on her knees, closing her eyes next and focusing on her magic. Well, until she was interrupted that was.

"What are you doing?" She opened her eyes and took him in. His eyes were even a little squinty, as if he honestly couldn't tell what she was doing.

"Meditating?" she offered, raising an eyebrow in a parody of how he had earlier.

"Why?" Riddle really didn't understand what she was doing, and she reveled in that. But a confused Riddle was annoying, questioning everything until he had the full picture.

"It helps me," she grit out, closing her eyes again.

"Helps you what?" He was definitely just acting like a child now.

"I'm sorry, but it's hard to focus when you keep talking," she said icely, making it clear that she was going to ignore him from here on.

"Excuse my intrusion then," he replied in kind.

While it helped that he was silent, Hazel was all too aware of the presence next to her on the loveseat. Even as she could hear the pages of his book turning, she could swear that he was watching her, but she dared not open her eyes to check. It took longer than normal to center herself, but she managed to do so eventually. Her nerves were frayed from the stress of the day and from Riddle's presence grating on her, but she soothed herself. It was a relief to allow her magic to spread out after being restrained all day, like stretching a sore muscle. She was careful to only expand it into her personal space, but even that was apparently enough to include Riddle. Hazel was hit with the full force of his magical signature. It was like a miasma, thick and dark and smothering. As intelligent as the boy was, he didn't seem to feel her magic gently intertwining with his own, feeling it out. He was no doubt very strong, given how overwhelming his magic was. And then she caught onto his emotions. He was more complex than he appeared. Curiosity and amusement were the first emotions she encountered, clearly directed at herself. And she didn't know why, but she felt the urge to dig just a little deeper. What she found left her gasping for air and scrambling to the corner of the loveseat, almost falling off it. Deep inside, where he had his most honest self hidden and buried, she had felt an all consuming combination of fear, envy, and hatred.

"Ms. Walker?" he asked, wary and careful as he watched her intently. But she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She quickly slipped on her shoes and moved to get up.

"I'm fine, I'm think I need to head to bed now." It came out in a rush, and it only fed his curiosity more, she could feel it. She was too off balance to pull her magic back in and thus could still feel him. She didn't make it very far before suddenly there was a hand grabbing her. His skin was searing against her own, and his hand was large enough to wrap around her forearm with ease. The contact brought her to a complete stop, though she didn't dare turn around to face him. All she could feel was him, his hand on her arm, his magic reaching out to subconsciously wrap around her.

"What happened? What did you see?" His excitement and eagerness almost felt foreign coming from him, knowing what kind of feelings lingered beneath it all.

"Nothing. Goodnight," she asserted, ripping her arm out of his hold before scrambling up the stairs to the girl's dorm. He stood at the bottom, watching her until she shut the door behind her. All the girls in her room were still awake, talking about the first day of classes the next day. They turned, startled when she entered the room, but they quickly returned to their gossip after realizing it was just the new girl. She shakily walked to the only unoccupied bed, which had her name engraved on a plaque in an elegant cursive. The bed was a large wooden four poster with thick silver and green curtains on all sides. There was a chest at the foot of the bed that unlocked when she touched it, and it was a relief that no one else could touch her belongings. Hazel changed into her sleeping clothes, climbing into the plush bed and closing the curtains around it, blocking out the light and sound of the dorm. The curtains must've been spelled with a silencing charm, something she appreciated. She was still frazzled and could even feel the residue of Riddle's touch on her arm.

It was difficult for her to fall asleep that night, but it was easy for her to decide on a course of action regarding the prefect. She would dedicate her time to avoiding Riddle, no matter the cost. If she saw him coming, she would run in the opposite direction. She didn't want to think about what would happen if he caught her alone again.


	2. Chapter 2

Hazel woke up long before the rest of her dorm-mates. There was just too much going inside her head to sleep any long. She was so excited yet intimidated by her classes today. She was expecting it to be a lot of work, given that she is now expected to be able to perform the spells perfectly. At least she didn't have any classes on Fridays, giving her a long weekend. She was able to have the bathroom to herself this early in the morning, so she took her time taking a shower and getting ready. It was supposed to be peaceful and relaxing, but still her mind was racing nonstop. When she came back into the dorm room, some of the others were beginning to show signs of life, so she grabbed her bag and quietly left the room. It gave her déjà vu, as if Riddle would still be standing there waiting for her. Without a better plan in mind, she decided to head to breakfast. It wasn't until she was halfway to the Great Hall that she noticed the bag was the same one Dumbledore had use to store her books when they were shopping. It had some sort of charm on it to make it larger on the inside, allowing her to carry all her books and supplies with her. It seems the clever professor had managed to give her another gift without her realizing it.

It wasn't surprising that not many students were in the Great Hall for breakfast, she was rather early after all. She took a seat at the Slytherin table by herself when she didn't recognize anyone in the room. Hazel wasn't the only one eating alone though, so she didn't feel too out of place. She kept her breakfast light, not wanting to upset her stomach on the first day of classes. Hazel pulled out the textbook for the first class of the day and began to give the first chapter a quick read over just to be more prepared.

"Morning! You're the transfer student, right?" She was startled by the high pitched voice, jumping in her seat slightly. When she looked up from her book, sitting across from her was a petite Ravenclaw with pigtails and large glasses, staring at her with wide eyes. If Hazel had to guess, she'd say the other girl was probably a third year.

"Yep, that's me," she confirmed hesitantly, unsure of how to proceed or what the other student wanted.

"Do you mind if I ask you some questions? Given that your name is American, I assumed that you transferred here from Ilvermorny. And, you see, I've heard some fascinating things about how the classes and houses differ there," she babbled, taking out a quill and some parchment as if she intended on taking notes, "Is it true that-"

"Myrtle, isn't it a bit early to be bothering the upperclassmen?" another Ravenclaw cut in, clearly trying to stop the younger girl from talking anymore, "I'm sorry about her, she doesn't mean to be so annoying."

"She's not-" Hazel began, automatically trying to defend her interviewer.

"It's fine, I get it," the girl, Myrtle, sniffled before getting up and running off with tears in her eyes. The older Ravenclaw simply shrugged and returned to her table as if this was normal for her.

"What just happened?" Abraxas, who had seen the entire thing as he walked into the Great Hall, asked as he reached her.

"I think I just made that girl cry?" She phrased it as a question because, frankly, she wasn't sure about what exactly had just happened.

"How very Slytherin of you," he teased, laughing at her pout, "So what all classes are you taking this year? I forgot to ask yesterday."

"Astronomy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination," she struggled to list them all, but she was pretty sure that she hadn't left any out.

"Wow, that's quite the course load! We should be in every class together except for Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures, I'm not taking those,"

"Why? Are they hard?"

"Not really, I just wasn't that interested in them," he explained with a shrug, digging into his omelette. They chit chatted for a bit before some of the others joined them.

"Why are you guys here so early?" Avery whined, sitting down across from them, clearly not a morning person. Lestrange was with him, but he didn't say anything, merely rested his head on the table as if he was going to fall back asleep then and there. If Hazel didn't know any better, she'd say he was hungover.

"Because we don't like to be late for class, unlike you guys," Abraxas taunted, to which the other boy only grumbled as he mindlessly sipped his tea. Nott and Dolohov joined them shortly, though they had to eat their breakfast in a hurry due to being so late. It took awhile, but seemed the boys were mostly awake at this point. They even began talking rather than grumbling incoherently. The Great Hall was now bustling with students having breakfast, but still, someone was missing. And it's not like she wanted to see Riddle, she was actually actively avoiding him, but it was easier to stay away from him when she knew where he was.

"Riddle must've been here even before us. He probably went to help set up the classroom," Abraxas answered her silent question, to which she just nodded in understanding. She had been prepared to reach out with her magic and find him herself, though she would've had a mean headache from sorting through all the magic in the castle. She wasn't even sure that she was capable of expanding her magic that far, given the size of the school.

"Come on, we need to get going. We have History of Magic first, right?" Hazel was extremely relieved that she had most of her classes with Abraxas, as she trusted him to lead her to her classes. It also just helped to know someone in the classroom. After a few days of walking the halls, she was sure that she would start picking up on directions, but for now it was a shot in the dark. The room was almost full by the time they made it to the classroom, given that only her and Abraxas actually had their books so they had to make a pit stop in the dungeons on the way. She noticed the room was segregated by house, and she wasn't sure if it was an assigned seating situation or if that's just how the students sat. Of course Riddle was seated in the front of the room, ever the teacher's pet. She was just relieved the seat next to him was already taken by a talkative Slytherin girl, allowing her to keep Abraxas for herself as they sat in the back of the room. Avery and Lestrange sat in front of them while Nott and Dolohov sat behind them, which oddly enough made her feel comfortable. Surrounded on all sides by familiar faces must've just had that kind of effect.

"If everyone could take your seats, we can begin class shortly," the professor intoned from the front of the room as the last few students came trickling in.

"Why are you so nervous?" Abraxas asked her lowly, more observant than she gave him credit for, "I know it's your first day here, but it's still just a class."

"It's just been awhile since I've been in a formal classroom setting," she admitted thoughtlessly, tensing once she realized that she had told the whole truth. It was too easy to trust the boy next to her, but she needed to be more careful. Dumbledore himself had warned her, and she had a feeling that she knew who Abraxas was truly loyal to. She was saved from anymore questions by class starting.

"Welcome to History of Magic, I am Professor Binns. If there aren't any questions about the syllabus, then we will begin. The first unit that we are going to cover is the Giant Wars." While the material was quite interesting, given that she had never learned about the Giant Wars in such detail, the professor was rather boring. The entire hour and half of class was spent with him lecturing without pause. Very quickly she realized it was easier to annotate her book rather than take notes, given how closely the lecture followed the textbook. She glanced over at Abraxas every now and then, and he always seemed to be doodling between the lines of his notes. Some of them were actually pretty impressive, crossing the line from doodle to sketch in their detail.

"Merlin, it felt like he was never going to stop talking," Lestrange groaned when class was dismissed, leaning back in his chair until he was looking at them upside down. It's not like they were in a hurry, given that they had a break before Potions, so they hung back as most of the other students cleared out.

"You wanna hang out in the common room until it's time for Potions? Seeing as it's in the dungeon anyway?" Abraxas asked, clearly eager to get off the uncomfortable wood chairs they were sitting on.

"Yeah, sure. It might take a second for me to get the feeling back in my legs though," she groaned, trying to get the blood moving again in her legs, which currently felt like they were being stabbed by pins and needles.

"The class was that good, huh Walker?" Lestrange purred, the innuendo very clear in his words. The little punk even had the gall to wink.

"Better than you at any rate," she shot back with a smirk. Immediately, all the boys lost it.

"She got you good," Avery cackled, elbowing his friend. Lestrange was laughing as well, even though he was the butt of the joke, and she was pretty sure Nott was crying from laughing so hard. She felt a type of pride at being able to brighten their mood, and she couldn't help but grin.

"We're gonna head back to the common room until class, you guys coming with?" Abraxas offered, standing up and stretching as he did so.

"Nah, we're gonna wait up for Riddle," Dolohov spoke up, and the others didn't contradict him. She hadn't even realized Riddle was still in the room, but she quickly located him talking to the professor.

"Well, see you guys in Potions then," she said, and with that her and Abraxas bid them adieu.

"Merlin, that was hilarious. I haven't seen Dolohov laugh that hard in years," he admitted with a chuckle as they walked down the hall towards the stairs.

"I can almost hear Mr. Coyote tell me that it wasn't very lady-like of me," she mused with a bittersweet smile. Even though the shaman had sent her away, she still missed him. She wondered if she should write to him. It couldn't hurt at the very least.

"Mr. Coyote?"

"He was a private teacher of mine. He was an animagus, and the animal that he could turn into was a coyote, so that's what I called him. He used to call me Ghost Eyes, for obvious reasons."

"Man, it must be so cool to be able to do magic like that," he sighed wistfully, to which she agreed. When they entered the common room, they found their alcove from last night taken, so they claimed a couch by the fireplace. Abraxas flopped onto it with a groan, and somehow he managed to make it seem graceful. He quickly moved out of the way when she threatened to sit on him though.

"Hey, you haven't actually met Professor Slughorn yet, have you?" and when she shook her head, he continued with his thought process, "It would be wise to get on his good side, given that he's the Head of Slytherin."

"That sounds like good advice, thanks Abraxas." She made sure to lay it on thick, just because she loved making the blonde blush.

"Don't mention it."

"Why can't it be lunch already? I'm starving," he groaned a short time later, pulling her attention away from her textbook.

"How are you already hungry?" she asked disbelievingly, "It hasn't even been two hours since we had breakfast!"

"I'm a growing boy, I need to eat!"

"Then why didn't you take any pastries with you when we left the Great Hall?"

"I didn't think of that actually," he admitted, smiling sheepishly. Her interest was peaked when a conversation turned heated, and she looked to see the girls in the alcove already looking back at her. They glared at her when they weren't staring dreamily at the Malfoy next to her.

"I don't think your fan club likes me very much," she mentioned, causing Abraxas to look in their direction in the least subtle way possible.

"Well, as it happens, I don't like them very much either," he decided, placing an arm around her shoulders just to make the girls wilt with dejection. It was odd, someone standing up for her, someone taking her side. And for it to be someone she hadn't known for long; something just didn't feel right, as much as she didn't want to question a good thing.

"Why are you so nice to me?" He looked perturbed by the question, as if he didn't understand what she meant.

"I don't-"

"We were strangers yesterday, and now you're my closest friend," she clarified, not meeting those grey eyes of his, "Look, I won't be mad-"

"When I invited you to sit with us, I was just being nice. I'll admit that I was curious about the transfer student. But then I was surprised by how well you fit in with us for an outsider, for a girl. And then when it was just you and me talking in the common room, I don't know, it just felt like I've known you for years, like I could tell you anything," he explained passionately, though there was some frustration directed at her.

"So you aren't just befriending me out of pity?" she asked skeptically, because what are the chances that he felt the same way about her that she felt about him?

"Of course not!" he declared, looking almost offended at her assumption, "How could you even think that?"

"It's not you. I'm just so used to people giving up on me that-" she had to pause for a moment to word what she wanted to say and to collect herself, "-that I wasn't sure if someone existed that wouldn't."

"Shit, we need to get going to Potions," he realized, frustrated at the poor timing of their class, "But this conversation isn't over yet."

"Hey guys, we saved you a table. Cutting it a bit close there, weren't you?" Avery scolded as they rushed into the classroom with the rest of the stragglers.

"We got a bit sidetracked," Abraxas explained as they took their seats, and she mentally thanked him for keeping their conversation private.

"I'd be late with Ms. Walker any day."

"Only in your dreams, Lestrange."

"You wound me, cruel woman."

"Hello students! Welcome to another wonderful year of Potions. Today is going to be rather easy, as you will just be studying the process for brewing the Draught of Peace, which you will be implementing next class period. If you have any questions, please feel free to call me over. Please remember that as you work as a team in this class, you are encouraged to talk with your partner," the professor gushed, and she was oddly impressed by how passionate he was about the class. When the students began to talk among themselves, he made a B-line over to their table with her in his sights.

"Ah, Ms. Walker! As the Head of Slytherin, I'm so happy to welcome you to Hogwarts! I'm Professor Slughorn," he introduced himself, taking her hand before she could even offer it and shaking it rapidly.

"Thank you sir, I'm glad to be here," she got out before he was already talking again.

"I see you will be working with Mr. Malfoy, good choice! He's sure to be able to help you catch up if needed, correct young man?" he directed the last part to Abraxas, who seemed startled by the sudden attention when he had been happily watching her struggle with the exuberant professor.

"Of course, Professor Slughorn," he agreed with wide eyes, almost stuttering.

"Ah, I see I'm needed elsewhere. Again, it was nice to meet you." And with that, he was scurrying away to whatever poor student raised their hand.

"Is he always like that?"

"Unfortunately," Abraxas groaned, clearly defusing after that interaction.

"And why did he assume that I would need to catch up?" she asked indigently, narrowing her eyes at the distant figure of the professor.

"He probably meant nothing by it, just that the curriculum at your other school may have been different." Even without reaching out with her magic, something about her friend's tone seemed off.

"You aren't telling me something," she accused, turning her gaze to Abraxas, who seemed to sink into his seat.

"No, I'm not," he argued weakly, before he finally spilled, "Slughorn has a group of special students that he dotes on, he calls it the Slug Club. He helps connect them with prominent figures in the wizarding world."

"But?" she prodded the other for more.

"But all the members are males from Slytherin and Ravenclaw."

"Ah. And you're apart of this club?" she guessed with a raised eyebrow, just a hint of judgement to her words.

"Well, yes. But that doesn't mean I agree with him!"

"I know, I'm just messing with you," she chuckled, elbowing her panicked friend in the side to show she meant it. He huffed at her teasing, but he couldn't hide his smile. They decided to read over the section about the potion in their textbooks, as well as how to properly handle the ingredients as a few of them were known to be tricky.

"So do you have any questions about the Draught of Peace?" he asked after they had finished reading over the information.

"Not really. It seems rather complex, but I'm sure the two of us can pull it off," she reasoned, before mentioning something she had noticed, "I just find it odd that there's so many repetitions of the number 7."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look here; 7 stirs clockwise, 7 stirs counterclockwise, 7 drops of hellebore," she pointed out each instance of the number 7 in the text.

"That's a wonderful observation, Ms. Walker!" Slughorn exclaimed from behind them, causing them to flinch as they hadn't been aware he was listening in, "10 points to Slytherin! Now, does anyone have any theories about why that is?"

"Repetition of the number 7 is often thought to be good luck as well as have magical significance," Riddle spoke up immediately. And while that was correct, it reminded Hazel of another possibility.

"Correct Mr. Riddle! 5 more points to Slytherin! Does anyone else have any ideas?" She waited for someone else to speak up, but when no one did, she steeled her nerves and shared her own theory.

"Well, in these directions, the number 7 is repeated three times. 777 is often referred to as the Angel Number. As the number 666 often refers to the Devil in mythology, then it is also said that 777 refers to God," she explained. It was a bit more off-center compared to what Riddle had offered up, but Slughorn seemed just as dazzled by her response.

"What wonderful insight! Another 5 points to Slytherin!"

"He really just hands out points to Slytherins like they're candy, doesn't he?" she muttered to Abraxas once the professor had moved away, and the sounds of chatter picked up again.

"I mean, none of the rest of us caught on or had any idea about the symbolism behind the number 7, so I'd say you and Riddle deserved those points," Abraxas disagreed, gently elbowing her as if to say she needed to give herself some credit.

"Look at you go, Little Miss Know-It-All," congratulated Lestrange as the boys joined them at their table.

"Better to be a Know-It-All than to know nothing," she snarked pointedly with a smirk.

"Damn, she's gotten you twice in one day," Avery teased with a similar mirth.

"To be fair, he makes it too easy."

"Not you too, Nott!"

"If you and your partner feel confident about your ability to brew the draught next class, you are free to leave early!" Slughorn announced, interrupting any further attacks on Lestrange's ego.

"Well, you heard the man, let's go get lunch!" Abraxas urged, brightening up at the thought of food.

"I'll second that."

They traveled in a pack to the Great Hall for lunch, with Riddle yet again in the lead. So thus Hazel made sure to take up the rear. When they sat down at the Slytherin table, she subtly chose to sit on the other side of Abraxas, placing her as far as possible from the prefect without making it obvious. She snacked rather than eating a complete lunch, as even being this close to Riddle disrupted her appetite. Her magic wasn't even expanded right now, his just seemed to be reaching for her now against it's owner's knowledge. It was distracting, suddenly being prodded by his magic when her's was currently curled around her tightly, protectively.

"Are you really just having cheese cubes for lunch?" Abraxas asked incredulously, startling her from her thoughts.

"Hey, the lady has to watch her figure!" Avery chided, as if his friend was just being a mother hen.

"I'm just not that hungry," she reassured, but it didn't stop her concerned friend from sneaking pieces of ham on her plate when he thought she wasn't looking. Luckily for him, she happened to love brown sugar ham. How he knew this, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't going to comment less he stop with the offerings. Thinking her role in the conversation over, she reached into her bag and pulled out a book that Dumbledore had recommended, something over wandlore. It was supposedly to help her understand her wand better apparently.

"Walker, you're in Divination with us next too, right?" Lestrange asked her before she could even open her book.

"Yep!" she confirmed, returning her book to her bag mournfully and popping another cube of cheddar into her mouth to stop herself from pouting.

"So what are you doing to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I read palms. Malfoy reads tea leaves. Riddle is into numbers. But what about you?" His explanation made her consider her options as she hadn't really given it any thought. Hazel had assumed she would go with something basic, like astrology, when all of a sudden she remembered the tarot cards Dumbledore had gotten her to match her bow and arrow set.

"I've always been interested in reading tarot cards, I guess."

"That's a cool one," Lestrange commented appreciatively, "Do you have a set of your own?"

"Yeah, I can show it to you guys in class." Mainly because she didn't want them to touch her new cards with their greasy hands.

"Sure, that works. I just think it's interesting, what a tarot card deck says about their owner."

"Well, you'll have to tell me what mine says about me," she mused, though she wasn't putting much stock in his abilities.

"I will take that as a challenge. Maybe it will tell me your darkest secrets, Ms. Mystery," he said dramatically. And to be fair, she did have some rather dark secrets, but she was pretty sure that was just a characteristic of a Slytherin.

"Then I promise I'll tell the truth about whether you're right or wrong," she agreed, meeting his terms.

"Don't tell me that you guys actually believe in this stuff?" Dolohov scoffed, which made her wonder why he was even in the class in the first place.

"I wouldn't center my life around it, no, but I'm just a bit too superstitious to rule it out either," she explained thoughtfully, to which he nodded slowly.

"That's fair, I guess."

"Speaking of Divination, we should get going," Abraxas brought up, keeping them on track. It was only once they were on their way to the Divination classroom in the tower that she realized Riddle hadn't said a single word all lunch.

"Hello class, and welcome to Divination. In this class, there will be no lectures. Instead, you will use a medium of your choice to look into the future. It doesn't even have to be anything from the curriculum, it can just be whatever calls to you. Now, I will go around and see what everyone has chosen on a personal level." And Hazel found it odd that the professor didn't even offer up her name or give them a list of resources. In any case, she didn't really know how they were going to be graded in this class. She reached into her seemingly endless bag and pulled out her tarot card set. It was still in it's wooden box, and she breathed in deeply as she open it. She loved the smell of new parchment and cedar, but there was also a hint of sage. She carefully pulled the cards out, not wanting to bend them. They were the size of playing cards, which meant they fit well in her hands, something she appreciated.

"I've never seen a tarot deck like that," Lestrange gushed, watching as she easily shuffled the cards. Similar to her bow, the backs of the cards were a dark blue. However, up close, she noticed specks in the blue, making it appear as if there were stars in a night sky. All the images on the cards were rather simplistic in design, but what made them particularly special was the use of watercolors. She warily handed the deck over to Mr. Grabby-Hands, but he handled them just as carefully as she had.

"When you said you had a deck, I didn't think that you meant a custom one," he stalled, looking through the cards reverently. And to be fair, she hadn't known it was a one-of-a-kind deck either.

"You didn't ask," she said sweetly, as if it had been on purpose.

"So Lestrange, what does her deck say about her?" Dolohov pressured with a smirk.

"Give me a second, you can't rush something like this," he insisted, glancing from the cards to her every so often as he was trying to make connections. Just before his pretty little head was about to exploded, the professor joined them. Hazel would almost say her movements were fluid, the effortless way she sat down and spoke. She would even bet that the Seer's magic moved in the same way, like it flowed.

"If I might assist?" she offered Lestrange.

"Of course, professor," he agreed, eager to no longer be in the spotlight.

"These cards are beautiful, Ms. Walker. They suit you perfectly. Could you please pick a card?"

"This is the card that she centers her deck around, a representation of herself and her magic." With that, she flipped the card over to reveal Death. It was beautiful, showing a Grim Reaper figure standing between the sun and the moon, with the background being completely black. In one hand, it held an arrow, and the other was outstretched as if for her to take it.

"Death? Does that mean she's going to die or something?" Dolohov asked, something disquieted about his words.

"Tarot cards are rarely literal," she chuckled, picking up his tone, "In her case, this means she is in a state of transformation. And look at how it reaches out for her! You are truly something special, Hazel. You'll realize that in time." Her last sentence seemed almost like a promise, but she must've said her piece because the professor stood up and glided over to the next group before any of them could comment.

"Crazy old bat," Dolohov muttered.

"Did anyone tell her your name?" Lestrange asked nervously, staring at the professor.

"She must've caught it during the sorting ceremony," Hazel reasoned, though she couldn't recall the woman being present.

"Yeah, that must be it." For the rest of the class, Lestrange showed her what the lines on her hands meant, though he didn't actually read them. It was surprising peaceful, and he was actually pleasant when he wasn't being a clod. It wasn't long before they were onto their last class of the day.

"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'm Professor Merrythought. I thought we'd begin with a bit of review from the past years. We will not be dueling today, instead we will just be demonstrating, understood? So, we will be going in alphabetical order so everyone gets the chance to show their stuff. Mr. Avery, if you could please show us the Verdimillious charm? Uno, Duo, or Tria is acceptable."

"Shit," Hazel muttered as she realized that she would have to actually use her wand for the first time.

"What, are you not very good at this class?" Abraxas asked, though he was observing Avery performing his assigned charm perfectly.

"I don't know. I don't know the wand movements," she stressed, which finally got his attention.

"Well, I should be able to give you a crash course," he reasoned when he saw how worried she was. She agreed eagerly, and they made their way to the back of the classroom, as to not be noticed.

"Okay, so how do I hold my wand?" she asked her tutor, holding her wand gingerly away from her person.

"You don't know how to hold a wand?" It seemed that Abraxas couldn't tell if she was being honest or if she was messing with him.

"I've never used one before!" she hissed, staring at her wand as if it would combust any moment. And given her track record with wands, it wasn't unreasonable. But she really liked this wand, and had hopes that she could learn how to use it.

"What do you mean you've never used one before? You're a witch!"

"There were special circumstances! So I can only do wandless magic!"

"And what circumstances were those? Then do it without a wand!"

"Dumbledore told me not to!"

"Why would he tell you that? You know the incantations at least, right?"

"Yes, I know that much."

"Okay, then I just have to teach you all the corresponding movements before it's your turn."

"Sounds like a piece of cake," she muttered, but she would take what she could get.

"And don't think I didn't notice how you deflected from my questions," Abraxas scolded, but he didn't press her further, given that she needed assistance immediately. The boys got lucky, only being asked to do basic things like the Disarming Charm and the Knockback Jinx. Abraxas was called away from their little session momentarily to perform the Tickling Charm, which he used to torture Avery. Before she was anywhere near prepared, it was her turn. Given her last name, she was the last person to go, putting even more pressure on her.

"Ms. Walker, if you could please demonstrate the Boggart-Banishing Spell?"

"Yes, Professor Merrythought." Could anyone see how nervous she was? They were all looking at her, nosy peers who were now eager to see what she feared most. Hazel didn't do well with this much attention, and she had to focus on maintaining control.

"Releasing the Boggart now!" At first she thought she was staring into a mirror, but then her reflection moved and she realized what her Boggart had taken the form of; herself. Looking more closely, it was actually a younger version of herself. She looked so terrified, so horrified, so miserable. Her nails were digging into her palms, blood dripping from the crescents onto the floor. Hazel traced the corresponding scars on her own palms, wondering how she had forgotten that detail. They were so faint now that they could only be seen when she extended all her fingers. She could almost feel the scream building in her throat, knowing exactly what was going on, what had happened.

"Snap out of it!" someone hissed, breaking her out of whatever trance she had been stuck in.

"Riddikulus!" she yelled, remembering the wand motions at the last moment. And like that, the vision of her younger self was replaced by a coyote. It sat peacefully in the place where the other Hazel had been, and it watched her with sad dark eyes, as if even the Boggart felt bad about taking on that form.

"Good job, Ms. Walker," the professor commented as she returned to her friend's side. Class was dismissed almost immediately, but her and Abraxas stayed behind as everyone else rushed off to dinner. The boys seemed unsure about whether to stay back with them, but the Malfoy waved them on.

"Do you know how messed up it is that you're afraid of yourself?" he sighed once they were alone, clearly concerned for her. It hurt her to worry her friend like this, but it wasn't like she could've predicted this was going to happen. He was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something, anything about what had happened.

"Can we please not talk about it?" As much as she knew her friend deserved some answers, she just couldn't deal with reliving everything again right now. It wasn't like she could tell him the whole truth about why she was afraid of herself. How would he think of her then? As a murderer, as a monster? Hazel couldn't handle that, her first friend coming to hate her.

"Yeah, sure, what's avoiding one more conversation at this point?" He sounded so bitter, so resigned. The weight of her past had never hung over her quite so heavily before, the weight of her secrets.

"That's not fair," she mumbled, stuck between feeling justified in keeping things to herself and feeling like a bad friend. But he didn't respond. Instead, he just shook his head and left for dinner.

Abraxas and her didn't talk for the next of the night, not even at dinner. Instead of hanging out in the common room with the rest of the boys, she dismissed herself to her dorm room, where no males could venture. Luckily for her there was no one else up there, so there were no witnesses to her pouting like a child and cursing the Malfoy under her breath. They didn't talk the next morning at breakfast either. They still sat next to each other of course, but neither of them were prepared to give in first. They didn't speak in Charms, nor in Transfiguration. Dumbledore seemed happy to see her though, and was quite proud that she was learning how to use her wand. He snuck her some lemon drops as he walked around the classroom, checking on everyone's progress with the Vanishing Spell. The boys were beginning to get frustrated by lunch at their lack of communication, begging them to just make up, but still they didn't talk to each other. Care for Magical Creatures was the first class she had without any of the others, but Avery, who didn't have a class that period, walked her to the classroom. He even decided to wait outside of the room for her so she could have a guide to Herbology.

They didn't talk until Wednesday. She had forgone eating at breakfast and lunch out of spite, watching how it had upset Abraxas. But he still didn't break. Before dinner, she yet again had Care for Magical Creatures. This time, however, they were outside at the stables, learning about the tamed Thestrals that were used to pull the carriages. She instantly recognized the one she had bonded with when she first came to the school. He seemed to remember her as well, as he instantly trotted up to her.

"Hello, again," she giggled as the Thestral gently headbutted her, "I brought you some jerky this time!" He took the offering happily, chewing away as she pet him.

"Magnificent beast, ain't he? I call him Odon, he seems to like it well enough," a Hufflepuff gushed from where he stood on the other side of the Thestral, "Oh, sorry, Rubeus Hagrid, I'm half-giant on my mother's side, it's nice to meet ya." He stretched an arm across the top of the creature, offering her his hand for a handshake.

"Hazel Walker," she introduced herself in turn, watching in fascination as her hand was swallowed up in his, though he was incredibly gentle when he shook it, "So you can see him?"

"Aye," he confirmed cheerfully, both of them ignoring what it meant for them to be able to see the horse.

"He seems to have really taken a shining to you," he mused as he watched the Thestral, Odon, gently bump her with his head, "You could probably even sit on him."

"Oh, is that allowed?"

"Of course, Odon is a very good boy after all," he insisted, coming around to stand next to her. Hazel was briefly confused on what he was doing until he picked her up under her arms as if she was a small child.

"Oh, wow," she gasped as she was lifted onto the creature as if she weighed nothing. Odon was very patient with them, not reacting even as she tucked her legs under his wings and carded her fingers through his mane. Like before, she reached out with her magic, feeling his ecstatic response in return. As she sat atop this beast of death, she couldn't help but wish to let it take her away, into the sky, away from people, away from the recent drama. Hogwarts was a wonderful place, but even here she didn't feel like she really belonged. Odon seemed upset by her sadness and even began to nervously pace. But then he suddenly seemed determined, and she distinctly was given the impression that she should hold on.

"Hey, wait, what are-" She was cut off when the Thestral began to sprint out of the stable, away from Rubeus. Her suspicions were only confirmed when the creature began to spread his wings.

"Odon! Hazel!" her new friend called out, chasing after them as best he could.

"What is going on-" Professor Kettleburn began, but she couldn't hear anything else as they left the ground with a jolt. She leaned forward and buried her face in the black mane she was currently holding onto for dear life. Odon kept prodding her magic eagerly, as if he wanted to know if this made her happier. He flew away from the castle and over the Forbidden Forest, taking her further and further away from Hogwarts. As they came to a cruising altitude, she was able to lean back and actually enjoy the experience of flying. After all, how was this any scarier than riding a broom? It was actually much more comfortable and secure, and although she knew she was probably going to be in trouble when they returned to the school, she couldn't help but feel like she didn't have a weight on her shoulders for the first time in weeks.

"Maybe we'll go on a real journey sometime, just you and I. Would you like that?" The beast seemed to almost purr under her in response, deciding the best way to show his happiness was to perform a loop-de-loop. She was just relieved the wind drowned out her shriek of delight. She knew the Thestral was capable of flying so much faster than this, but, given that they didn't have a destination, he seemed content to just cruise through the sunset tinted clouds. It was beautiful, but even in the sky she was chained by reality.

"Come on, we need to get heading back," she ordered reluctantly, though he slowly began to turn for her, "Next time, remind me to bring some goggles and a hat."

By the time they made it back to the school, the sun had set completely. The Thestral seemed to be able to see exactly where he was going though, landing by the stables they had taken off from. Rubeus must've been waiting for them, because he appeared from the stables almost the moment they touched down.

"Hazel! Odon!" the half-giant cried out in relief as he lumbered towards them.

"Rubeus!" He gently lifted her off of the creature, though she needed to lean back onto the horse when she discovered her knees were shaking under her.

"Oh thank goodness that you're okay, lass. I would've never put you on him if I thought he would do this. And Odon, you bad boy-"

"It's not his fault. He could feel that I was sad, and he just wanted to make me happy," she interjected, defending the Thestral. In response to the praise, the creature stood tall and struck a pose, causing them to laugh at his attitude.

"There they are!" a voice suddenly called out, and she wasn't quite sure who they were, given she could only see the lights from their wands. But then she heard Abraxas next.

"Hazel? Hazel!" he called out as he came running to her. When he reached her, he grabbed her by the shoulders, looking over her carefully.

"Are you okay?" Lestrange asked, catching up after a sprinting Abraxas had left him behind. Avery, Nott, and Dolohov joined them seconds later.

"When you didn't come to dinner-" Avery cut himself off, as if he didn't want to admit that they had been worried. The only one of them not present was Riddle, to no one's surprise.

"I'm fine, I promise," she comforted the clearly stressed out group.

"Then what the hell were you thinking?!" Abraxas bellowed, anger overtaking his worry now that he had determined her to be in perfect health.

"I wasn't?" It came out as a question, and Avery had to choke off his laughter when Abraxas leveled his glare at him instead.

"Yeah, I can see that!"

"Where's the professor?" she asked, looking around for any adults, "I'm in so much trouble, aren't I?"

"Well, actually, Professor Dumbledore said he had given you permission. Professor Kettleburn is just upset you didn't tell him first, but you're not in trouble," Rubeus explained cheerfully.

"Come on, I'm not letting you out of my sight. We need to start moving or else all of us will be late to Astronomy," Abraxas commanded, already dragging her back towards the castle. The other boys followed behind them, chuckling at their friend's over-protectiveness.

"See you later, Rubeus!" she called back to the half-giant before they got too far. She appreciated the Hufflepuff waiting for her and Odon to return from their impromptu flight, and she looked forward to seeing him more.

"That you will, Ms. Hazel!"

"So, you guys called me Hazel," she pointed out smugly as they climbed the stairs to the tower where the Astronomy class would be taking place.

"Well, it is your name, isn't it?" Dolohov challenged, ever the snarky bloke.

"Well, yes. But you guys always call me by my last name. It was almost like guys were worried about me or something," she teased. Luckily for them, it was dark in the stairway so she couldn't see their expressions or blushes.

"Or something," Lestrange maintained, which made her giggle.

"Why do I feel like I should just expect you to do stupid shit and be prepared to clean up the mess afterwards?" Abraxas groaned once they had reached the top, rubbing his temples in circles as if she had given him a headache. It was very well possible that she had. She wondered how long it had taken at dinner before he had given in and went looking for her, only to learn she was missing. And then to go back and get almost all of the group to come out and help him look for her.

"That's probably pretty accurate," she agreed cheekily, to which he just rolled his eyes fondly. Astronomy was rather interesting, gazing at the constellations and learning about how the phases of the moon affected spells and potions. But Hazel found herself leaning into Abraxas not even halfway through, her eyes threatening to close. It would seem that her unplanned adventure had wiped her out more than she had previously thought. When the class was over, she had to be guided down the stairs less she trip and fall, she was that exhausted. When they got back to the common room, the boys made themselves comfortable on the couches, not quite ready for bed. But when she went to join them, there was an immediate rejection.

"Nope, no common room for you, straight to bed," Abraxas ordered, pushing her towards the stairs to the girl's dorm.

"What? Why? I'm-"

"About to fall asleep standing up? Yes, indeed. Now off to bed with you," he ordered, all but shoving her up the stairs.

"I'll let you win this round, but only because I feel bad for scaring you," she gave in, knowing the blonde was right but not willing to give him the satisfaction of saying so.

She managed to change into her pajamas and put away her clothes before collapsing into her bed. She fell asleep the moment her head touched her pillow, before she could even cover herself up or shut the curtains around her bed. It was the best sleep she had ever had; at least until she woke up at 2 AM to her stomach growling. It occurred to her then that she hadn't eaten all day. She tried to fall back asleep, but she just couldn't ignore the way her tummy continued to loudly protest the lack of food.

With a low groan, she got up out of bed. She at least remembered to slip on her robe and some slippers before leaving the dorm room. She had to squint her eyes upon entering the common room, the light from the fireplace blinding to her tired eyes. And imagine her surprise when she realized someone else was awake. And then imagine how she cursed the fates when realized that someone was Tom Marvolo Riddle. He must've heard her coming down the stairs, because he was already watching her with an amused expression on his face, an eyebrow raised questioningly. It occurred to her how unkempt she must look between the bedhead and the fuzzy slippers. She was just grateful that her robe hid her pajamas; given that they were a rather sheer material from her time under the shaman in the desert. Hazel decided the best course of action was to ignore the other teenager as if he wasn't there. It wasn't surprising when that didn't work.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked just before she could exit the common room, clearly not letting her ignore him.

"To get a snack," she admitted, making another aborted motion to leave.

"It's past curfew," he rebuked her before she could, as if she wasn't aware of what time it was.

"I'll risk it," she spat snappishly, just wanting to get her snack already.

"You do recall that I'm a prefect, correct?" he pointed out airily, the threat to get her in trouble implied. But after the day she had, it didn't really mean much to her.

"Can you please just put off being an asshole until after I've had something to eat?" she groaned, leaning her head against the stone wall and fighting the urge to bash her skull against it.

"I honestly don't know if I'm capable of such a thing." Oh, he had jokes now. Wasn't that lovely, a Riddle with a sense of humor? She must be more tired than she previously thought if he managed to almost make her laugh.

She slipped out of the common room after that, putting an end to the conversation before she could say anything to actually gain Riddle's ire. Getting out of the dungeons without being noticed was easy enough, but she froze upon turning a corner as she almost ran into the back of a professor. It was only then that it occurred to her that she could've just expanded her magic and used it to sense anyone on patrol. Thankfully the man hadn't noticed her yet, but she couldn't find it in her to move back into hiding, afraid that any sound would make him turn around. Instead, this was done for her as a familiar hand suddenly clamped around her forearm and pulled her back behind the wall. This of course brought her way closer than she had ever dreamed of to Riddle, her savior apparently. It was only slightly disturbing that she hadn't heard him following her, or that he was following her at all. His touch was just as searing as the first time he had grabbed her, his magic just as overpowering. It seemed to wrap itself around her, holding her captive in Riddle's orbit.

"You are hopeless," he sneered, dragging her behind him. As a prefect, he knew the routes of everyone on patrol and thus how to avoid being caught. That was definitely why she didn't remove her arm from his hold, it's not like she was worried that he wouldn't let her this time.

"So I've been told," she couldn't help but joke, to which he just rolled his eyes.

"How do you even know where the entrance to the kitchen is?" was his next question.

"Dumbledore showed me," she admitted again, and she didn't know why she just didn't lie.

"You're awfully close to the professor," he jabbed, and it was clear both of them were thinking about how she had refused to answer his previous question involving Dumbledore.

"You're awfully close to getting on my nerves," she muttered under breath, glaring at the back of his head as he tickled the pear of the painting, gaining them admittance to the kitchen. It was eery at first, the dark and empty kitchen. If she stood slightly closer to the other teenager, neither of them commented. But out of nowhere appeared a house elf, who eagerly approached them. Riddle let go of her arm as if it had burned him as to not be seen being improper.

"Hello children! What can Nola get for you?" the house elf chirped, looking up at them with a smile as if she was eager to serve them.

"You really don't need to-" She began, as she didn't want to trouble the woman, only to be cut off by Riddle.

"Don't," he hissed lowly at her before addressing the elf, Nola, "She missed dinner." And it shouldn't have surprised her that he knew that, as he must've been at dinner with the boys when she didn't show up.

"I know just the thing for Ms. Walker! Take a seat!" How the elf knew her name, she wasn't sure. In any case, Nola watched them like a hawk until they followed her suggestion and slowly sat down in the breakfast nook she had indicated to them. She scurried into the kitchen, and they could hear the sounds of her preparing Hazel's snack distantly.

"You never try and take a job away from a house elf, it never ends well," he explained quietly, as to not be overheard. They sat there in an awkward silence, looking everywhere except at each other until Nola reappeared with a plate and a mug.

"Tiny sandwiches for the lady and hot chocolate for Mr. Riddle!" She seemed so pleased with herself as she placed their snacks in front of them, but she didn't stick around for long. She disappeared, leaving the pairing alone in the deserted kitchen. Hazel was impressed to find the sandwiches were ham and turkey clubs, but with no mayo, just the way she liked them. Even from here she could smell Riddle's hot chocolate, and it seemed like there was a hint of cinnamon in it as well.

"Tiny sandwiches?" he questioned with an eyebrow raised. And she had to admit, it was a bit childish that this was how she liked her sandwiches; with the crust removed from the bread and cut into small triangles.

"Hot chocolate?" she shot back, copying his tone.

"Point taken," he conceded, and it felt like a temporary truce. They enjoyed their snacks in silence. When she wiggled happily in her seat as she ate her sandwiches, he didn't comment. She returned the favor when she noticed the mini marshmallows adorning his beverage. Being this close to the prefect allowed her to actually take a good look at him for the first time this morning. This was the most relaxed she had ever seen him, and she didn't count the placid aura that he normally held around himself like a shield. Riddle was pale in general, but now he looked almost sickly. His cheeks seemed hollow, and there were dark bruises under his eyes. When he caught her staring, there was a flash of surprise before he schooled his features into something questioning.

"You look like shit," she blurted tactlessly, though Riddle only cocked his head at her social blunder, "I just mean, well, you don't look like you've been sleeping well."

"That's none of your concern," he cautioned, rather snootily if she might add. Well, if he wanted to play it that way, she'd just have to dig a bit. It was a bit harder to expand her magic without meditating first, but she managed. Unlike most people's magic, his didn't shy away when her own brushed against it. Instead, it wrapped itself around her, coiling almost like a snake. There was a constant threat of it tightening, but she knew it couldn't hurt her without Riddle's conscious decision. He must've been sleeping less than she had thought, as the predominant feeling she felt from him was a bone deep exhaustion. And unlike last time, his fear wasn't completely buried. She gently coaxed at it, and it responded as warily as a frightened small animal would. It was odd, comforting the fear of a boy she actively disliked, but some part of him seemed to yearn for that reassurance. That was when it opened up to her, just enough to answer her question. He couldn't sleep because he was having nightmares of what terrified him most. Through his eyes, she could see an image of his own dead body. It was horrifyingly detailed, from the rigor mortis to the expression on his face. It was more disturbing that she had been expecting, and it seemed like the more she tried to pull back, the more his fear drew her in, desperate for her to make it go away.

"What are you doing?" he suddenly snapped, analyzing her suspiciously. And she wondered if she had gone too deep, if he had felt her this time.

"What?" she played dumb, trying to seem as unassuming as possible.

"I felt something, I know it was you," he accused, eyes narrowing at her. His magic slowly began to clamp down on her, as if to hold her in place while he interrogated her. It was then that Hazel knew she had fucked up, that she had dug just a little too much into the wrong person. If she had thought that his magic felt dark before, it was absolutely poisonous now.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she denied, glancing around for something to protect herself. Of course she could always use her wandless magic, but she didn't want to expose her true ability, especially to Riddle. She wished she had thought to grab her wand before she left the dorm, but to be fair, she had just been planning on getting a snack, not this.

"You were in my head," he seethed, and she swore that his normally black eyes flashed burgundy. But that wasn't possible, right?

"No-" She could feel his anger blossoming, consuming everything else. When he cut her off, she got up and tried to move to leave, but suddenly he was there, blocking her. She had thought him to be rather unathletic, especially in comparison to his friends, but it seemed she had underestimated him. With his long legs and all lean muscle, he was rather fast and strong apparently.

"Stop lying! Insolent witch, how dare you-" He shoved her roughly into the wall, using his bodyweight to pin her against it. Hazel hadn't truly noticed until now how much larger the wizard was compared to her. He was easily half a foot tall than her, with broad shoulders that were normally hidden under his robes. His wand was pressed harshly into her soft jugular, the threat of violence crystal clear.

"Let go of me-"

"How did you even manage to get past my shields?"

"Shields?" she repeated, confused.

"I protect my mind with shields against Legilimency, you shouldn't have been able to-"

"Please, stop, I'm telling you that I didn't-"

"How did you do it? What did you see?" He was up in her face, expression dangerous as he snarled. His wand was now pressing so hard into her throat that she was sure it was going to bruise.

"I just wanted to know why you couldn't sleep!" she finally babbled, closing her eyes and cringing away from him as much as she could. And like that, everything went silent. She tentatively opened her eyes after a moment to see what was going on. He was still as close as before, but he seemed to be thinking over her reactions and what she had admitted.

"And what did you find?" It was too calm given the dark look present in his eyes, and she knew she wasn't out of trouble yet. If anything, she was in more danger now that he had regained control of himself.

"You keep having nightmares," she placated meekly.

"And surely you saw what I see when I dream?"

"You see your own dead body." It came out as a gasp, as if it hurt her to say. And it had, the image of Riddle's lifeless body flashing through her head again at the mention of it. It was traumatic, seeing that version of the man in front of her in her mind's eye. She couldn't imagine seeing that everytime she closed her eyes, and she wondered how he dealt with it. On second thought, it seemed that he didn't deal with it, at least not in any way that was constructive.

"What else did you see?" He asked again, as if he thought she had been actively looking through his mind for something.

"Nothing else, I swear!"

"Hmm, I'm not quite sure I believe you," he mocked, slowly tracing her face with his wand. It made her shiver, the coolness of the wood and the intention behind the motion. She wanted to jerk her face away, but she couldn't exactly seeing that working out.

"I don't know how you can even stand to breathe when you are always so afraid of dying," she whispered sincerely, looking at him with something like pity. It riled him up again, but this kind of anger was different than before, it wasn't as dangerous. What had previously seemed like her last moments was quickly upgrading into an argument in which she could defend herself. He slammed her back against the wall before tearing himself away. She stayed against the wall as to not trigger him again, watching as he paced in front of her.

"You don't know anything! And that's rich coming from you; your worst fear is yourself! I can't imagine having such low self esteem to be that pitiful!" he sneered, lashing at her verbally as he had physically.

"You don't know anything about me!" she glowered, even though her anger was nothing compared to his.

"And you think you know me?" he hissed in return, effectively cowing her as she was forced to realize she knew next to nothing about the prefect, "Yeah, that's what I thought!"

"And I didn't actually read your mind, I wouldn't invade someone's privacy like that. I just followed your emotions, and that's what you showed me," she reasoned, trying to justify her actions. But she didn't know if she was trying to explain herself to him or to herself.

"You really think that's somehow any better?" he chuckled bitterly, as if knew what she was thinking; that she had abused her magic in a way that Hogwarts frowns upon. Hazel could almost feel the gears in his head turning as he considered his next move. As it seemed that she was no longer in imminent danger, she pulled her magic back in, not wanting to get caught reading his emotions again.

"How about this; I'll be generous and forgive you if you answer three questions of mine truthfully and completely," he offered, acting gracious even though they both knew she had no other choice than to go along with his little game.

"1 question," she bartered, which was immediately shot down.

"3 or no deal."

"Fine," she sighed, feeling as if she had just made a deal with the Devil. And he smirked as she gave in, both of them aware of who had won this time.

"Why did Dumbledore pull you aside?" She had seen this question coming given how he had tried to pry into it once before and thus had a prepared answer ready.

"He wanted to check in on me, make sure that I was settling in okay." It came out easily, just as she had worded it in her head.

"You agreed to answer completely," he rebuked, clearly able to tell that she was holding something back.

"And he told me to be careful about who I chose to befriend," she admitted, knowing that was the detail that he really wanted to hear. He hummed in acknowledgement, watching her expression intently as he thought of his next question.

"Why did you run away from me that night in the common room?" And wasn't that a loaded question?

"I did the same thing I did earlier; I felt your emotions, your real self. I felt the fear, the anger, the hate that you hide so well from everyone," she hissed, something accusatory to her words that he seemed to take pleasure in.

"Everyone but you that is," he purred as he came closer again, something sadistic in his eyes as he considered her in a new light. He also seemed to delight in how she flattened herself against the wall to keep him from coming into contact with her again.

"What's your final question?" she asked, trying to distract him. It didn't really work as he placed a hand on the wall on either side of her head, effectively caging her in without actually touching her. It was nerve wracking, being able to feel his breath on her face while being unable to move away. Again he seemed to relish in making her uncomfortable, in watching her blush uncontrollably.

"I think I'm going to save it," he decided, smirking mischievously as she realized that she had been tricked.

"You sneaky little-"

"You never said I had to ask all three questions now," he pointed out the loophole, ever the Slytherin. And she couldn't believe she was stupid enough to fall for it. Suddenly, there was the crack of someone apparating, and he slid away from her while turning around to face Nola, who appeared in the kitchen. The motion was elegant in a way she had only ever seen in figure skaters, and she could feel herself blush again as she realized she found it attractive.

"Was everything to your liking? Do you need anything else?" Nola asked cheerfully, though she was definitely looking at them with something smug in her expression.

"Oh, no thank you. Everything was wonderful," Riddle answered, sounding perfectly normal despite the past half an hour. She envied his acting ability as she remained leaning against the wall, looking a right mess.

"Children need their sleep, you kids should get going to bed. Are you sure you don't need-"

"Thank you very much, Nola, but you're right, we should be getting back to bed." Even as clipped as his tone was, he still managed to sound like a gentleman as he smiled charmingly. There was a sharp look as he turned to her, and she quickly moved to the exit, with Riddle hot on her heels.

"Aren't they such a cute couple?" she could hear the house elf squeal to herself as they left the kitchen, which they unanimously agreed to ignore. It was a silent journey back to the dungeons, with Riddle leading her down a few different hallways to avoid the patrols again. She could breathe a sigh of relief when they spilled into the Slytherin common room, comforted by the low light of the fire. She began to head towards the stairs to the girl's dorm when she paused as she noticed Riddle not doing the same.

"Aren't you going to try and get some sleep?" she asked as the boy returned to his seat on the couch from earlier.

"We both know that's pointless," he sighed, making himself comfortable. One of his arms rested on the arm of the couch while the other rested on the back of it. His head was tilted back to rest on the back of the couch as well, and his eyes were closed. It would seem that the events in the kitchen had stolen whatever energy he had left, leaving him to try his best to fight the sleep that tried to take him. And knowing what he was trying to avoid, she couldn't bring herself to leave him alone. How was it that he had been threatening her less than hour ago, and she still felt something like sympathy for him?

"What are you doing?" he snapped as she took a seat on the opposite side of the couch, though he didn't move from his position at all.

"I'm not sleepy yet," she chirped, making herself comfortable. She took off her slippers and curled her legs under her, resting her head on her arm of the couch.

"And you couldn't sit on the other couch?" he groaned, making her giggle.

"It's easier to annoy you from here," she explained, going as far as to encroach just a little more into his personal space. She had to return the favor after all, seeing as he had done something similar to her multiple times now.

"Why must you push your luck? Weren't you trying to avoid me or something?" It wasn't surprising that he had picked up on her avoidance of him for the past few days, but it was odd that he had allowed her to instead of seeking her out and cornering her for his answers.

"I can go back to avoiding you tomorrow," she decided, as if it wasn't a big deal that she was willingly spending time with the prefect.

"Are you always such a brat?"

"Only when it's 3 AM."

They were silent for a while after that, both of them lost in their thoughts. She was careful not to intrude again, knowing she had already gotten off easy once this morning. Hazel stared into the fireplace, letting the dancing of the flames hypnotize her. It was oddly relaxing. For some reason, it brought her back to a memory. She remembered laying on a couch very similar to how she was right now in the office of the Ilvermorny Headmaster. It was still that summer when they had been almost inseparable, before he had considered her a danger to the student body. He had wanted to expose her more to the no-maj culture that she had left behind, such as the archery and knife throwing that she had taken up. In this case, he had wanted her to experience a movie. Where he had gotten the film and the projector, she didn't know. But they had watched The Wizard of Oz on the wall of his office, with her sprawled out on his couch while he sat in an armchair nearby, commenting on how they portraying witches and wizards.

"What are you humming?" Riddle suddenly spoke up, and she was startled to realize that she was humming the tune in her head aloud, "It sounds familiar."

"Somewhere Over the Rainbow." It had been her favorite musical number in the movie, and the one that had stuck with her the most. She could relate to wanting to get away, to be as free as a bird flying over the rainbow.

"Isn't that a Muggle song?" She was surprised he knew it, given that she had thought he knew nothing of Muggle culture.

"Yeah, it was in The Wizard of Oz," she explained, before considering that maybe her humming had been irritating him, "Do you want me to stop?"

"Continue if you must," he allowed with sigh, though she hid a smile when it occurred to her that he actually wanted her to continue. So she did, beginning Somewhere Over the Rainbow from the top. She moved onto Follow the Yellow Brick Road, to If I Only Had a Brain, to We're Off to See the Wizard. It was only when she yawned, interrupting her humming, that realized she should probably get heading to bed. With her food digested, she was now perfectly capable of falling asleep.

"Well, I think I'm going to get going to bed-" she began to get up, halting when she noticed Riddle was fast asleep. Of course the prefect didn't do something as uncouth as snore, instead he looked as regal as ever, even sprawled out in the corner of the couch. But he looked so much softer when he wasn't awake, even his hair seemed to fall differently. His legs were splayed out in front of him in the ultimate manspread, and it made her giggle. Aware that she was already breaking her promise to herself from earlier, she reached out with her magic. Although he wasn't sleeping heavy enough to have dreams yet, she couldn't help but sweep away his lingering fear, keeping the nightmares away. Maybe he wouldn't be so intolerable if he could have a decent night's sleep. His magic wasn't as volatile when the boy was sleep, if anything it acted like a snake seeking warmth, wrapping around her yet again but without the usual promise of pain. It was sickening adorable. Riddle didn't seem to feel lonely, but she wondered if that was just because he didn't know what it meant to be cared for in the first place. She pictured what kind of family had raised a boy like this, or maybe if this was just how he was born. He was right, she didn't know him at all.

"I guess it couldn't hurt to stay here just a little longer," she mused, shifting to sit criss cross on the couch sideways and leaning into the back of it, just observing Riddle with half-opened eyes.

"If you only had a heart, huh?" she whispered to him, smiling sadly. Hazel yawned again, deciding that she could handle just resting her eyes for a moment. She'd just relax here for a little longer with her eyes closed, and then she'd go to bed. Maybe she'd grab Riddle a blanket, even though he should be kept warm as he slept by the fire. She couldn't imagine waking him up just to make him go to bed, he'd be fine sleeping out here on the couch for the night. She should get up and go to bed, but Riddle's magic was protesting her leaving. It whispered temptingly to her, asking her not to move. And her eyelids were so heavy, she couldn't seem to be able to bring herself to open them-


	3. Chapter 3

Hazel was very disoriented when she woke up, but that was probably because she was sitting upright. Why was she sitting and not laying down? Ah, yes, she must've fallen asleep on the couch like this! But then why was the section of couch she was leaning against moving? It almost felt like it was breathing. And it smelled like fresh linen and men's cologne, or maybe it was aftershave? It wasn't like she'd know the difference between the scents. In any case, it was familiar in an odd way. She tried to picture who she associated it with, but she couldn't quite make out the face.

It was breathing. She was on someone.

Instead of immediately flailing, she decided to carefully inspect the situation. Opening her eyes, she was met with the view of the common room. If she looked down slightly, she could see long legs clad in black slacks. And she'd know this magic, those bony knees, anywhere; she was currently cuddled into Tom Marvolo Riddle's side. It was surprisingly comfortable, his body was more accommodating than she would've ever expected. Her feet were warm as they were tucked underneath of her, the side that she had pressed up the prefect was warm, and there was another source of warmth that ran along her other arm. Turning her head, she realized that it was an arm draped over her. It was a relief to notice that his breathing was even and there was no tension in his limbs; he was still asleep. She thought about slowly getting up and leaving before he could wake up, but that was too risky. But she also didn't want to be here when he woke up, given everything that had occurred between the two of them earlier in the morning. Maybe when he woke up, she could pretend to be asleep and put the decision of what to do on him?

It was then that she actually thought to use her magic to analyze her surroundings. His magic was wrapped around her like it had been when he had fallen asleep. But now it was active again, almost vibrating around her with something like excitement or nervousness. The asshole was awake. And he had just left her there to sleep. He had clearly taken the option of waiting for her to wake up and seeing what she would do. So he had been aware that she had been awake for nearly 5 minutes now and hadn't moved away. She wondered if he felt just as embarrassed as her, because this definitely wasn't pleasant. There was no way that either of them were enjoying this situation, given that they were cuddling. It took her a moment to steel herself before she began to move very slowly, tilting her head back until she was looking up at him. And of course he was already looking down at her with the best poker face she had ever seen. It didn't give anything away about what he was thinking or feeling. He didn't even raise an eyebrow or smirk, anything to indicate that he was reacting to whatever expression was on her face. She had at least 20 questions flying around in her head, but none of them really seemed appropriate right now. She couldn't even tell if she was in danger. It startled her when he spoke up first, making her tense up.

"We have approximately 5 minutes before Malfoy comes walking down those stairs," he recalled casually, as if he was talking about the weather, "Unless you'd rather him see this, I suggest we get back to our respective rooms." And wasn't it odd that he had phrased it like it was her choice? Like if she had wanted to just remain there, pressed into his side, he would've let her?

"Yeah, that would probably be best," she agreed automatically, though she was rather guarded. She had crossed yet another line in such a short amount of time, and she couldn't trust Riddle to not have something up his sleeve. They maintained eye contact as she began to carefully extract herself from his side, but she paused when she realized that his arm was still draped over her. There was a weight behind it, like he had been holding her to his side while she slept. She didn't dare ask if he had done it while he was asleep or if it had been once he had awoken. He removed the arm that had been draped over her, allowing her to move away. She scooted back to her seat at the other end of the couch from the night before, but still neither of them got up. They were analyzing each other, trying to reconcile the situation with their understandings of who the other person is and discovering there to be multiple conflicts. They actively disliked each other, Riddle showed an aversion to physical contact given how he interacted with his friends, Hazel only ever initiated contact with Abraxas and had been even avoiding the other up to this point; nothing about this made sense. But as she was realizing more and more, she had no idea who Riddle was.

He didn't say anything or even move a muscle as she got off the couch, just watched as she grabbed her slippers and fled up the stairs to the girl's dorm without another word or a backward glance. She sat down on her bed as she entered the room, and only one of the other girls in the dorm even realized she hadn't been in the room until now. Hazel didn't even want to think of the gossip and rumors that would come about as a result. Everything just felt so unrealistic that it almost felt like a dream, like there was no way that it had actually happened. But this was real, she was awake, and she had class in an hour. She went through her morning routine as if she was sleepwalking, still lost in her thoughts. She didn't even remember walking down to the common room or meeting up with Abraxas in the Great Hall until he was snapping his fingers in front of her face. She jerked backwards, eyes blinking rapidly as she came back to the here and now.

"Hey there Space Cadet, can you come back down to Earth for a second?"

"What? Sorry, I was just lost in thought," she apologized sheepishly. Lestrange snorted at her response as if to say that much was obvious, given that the blonde had probably been trying to get her attention for awhile now. When she looked up, she was alarmed to find that Riddle was in his usual seat, and she hadn't even noticed. He was reading a textbook as was usual for him, making no indication that he even knew she was there either. It almost made her question if she had really woken up on the couch with him this morning, but she could still feel the buzz of his magic as it danced around her, like she had somehow made it happy.

"I asked if you wanted to come to the Slytherin Quidditch tryouts on Saturday? Me and Nott are basically shoe ins given that we on the team last year, but well, seeing as you're new-"

"Yeah, sure, sounds like fun," she cut off his nervous ramblings with a smile, finding it cute that he was so considerate, "I can cheer you guys on from the stand."

"That may be more distracting than helpful, having a lady as lovely as yourself in view."

"Oh, shut up, Lestrange." Although she pretended to be exasperated, the flirt always managed to make her smile. As the chatter picked back up between the boys, the Malfoy got her attention again.

"Hey, you have Ancient Runes this morning, right?" Abraxas asked, to which she nodded absentmindedly in confirmation, "Do you need me to walk you there? It's no trouble-"

"I can walk her, seeing as we have the class together," Riddle suddenly spoke up coldly, causing the boys to go momentarily silent as they looked at their friend in something akin to shock. It had been an decision rather than an offer, and they all knew it. Hazel hadn't thought that he was even paying them any mind, but clearly she had been wrong.

"Thanks, that'd be great," she said lamely, not even trying to sound sincere. Abraxas was looking at her as if begging her to invite him along as well or to even decline Riddle's idea, but the blonde also didn't know who she had been sleeping next to this morning. She assumed this was related to that incident in any case.

"You ready?" the prefect asked, already standing up before she could even think to respond, "I'd like to get there a bit early."

"Sure," she grit out as she was rushed to get up and catch up with the prefect, who had annoyingly long legs, "See you guys during the break!" The asshole didn't even slow down or wait up for her, instead he just began to talk at her the moment she caught up to him outside of the Great Hall.

"You will never talk about this morning to anyone, is that understood?" He got right to the point as they walked down the empty hallways, talking lowly regardless of the lack of people around to overhear them.

"Like I would ever want to," she muttered petulantly, but he definitely heard her.

"You will speak to me with respect," he demanded, a sharp look in his eyes as he turned to glare at her. She returned the death stare, though she had to admit that he looked better this morning. That little bit of nightmare free sleep had done wonders for him, which he wouldn't have gotten without her interference, not that she would admit that she had invaded his privacy again.

"I will when you earn that respect," she jabbed in return, defiant even despite the capacity for violence she had witnessed from the other.

"I am a prefect, I am the top student in our year, I am slated to be the Head Boy seventh year; what isn't there to respect?" He sounded like the true narcissist that he was deep down, honestly confused as to why she didn't view him as a god like the other students.

"The fact that it's all an act?" Hazel asked rhetorically, rolling her eyes when he only hummed in acknowledgement rather than deny it. She had seen some of his true colors in the kitchen, and they both knew he couldn't undo that.

"You're more insightful than I gave you credit for," he concluded, and it almost sounded like a compliment except for the fact that it was Riddle saying it. Instead, it felt like he just found her to be less disappointing than before.

"Thanks?"

"You may actually be useful to me," he said aloud, though it seemed like he was talking to himself rather than her. Of course everything he did and said had a purpose, so she knew it wasn't an accident; he had meant to tell her this.

"What is that supposed to mean?" And of course he ignored her. They were already to the classroom, and even though the room was empty, they lingered in the hall as he thought about what he wanted to ask of her. She leaned against the wall of the hallway as he kept her waiting, showing him he had her full attention and to get on with it.

"Consider this: aren't people with magic superior to those without? We can perform feats that Muggles can only dream of, all that power just waiting under our skin, under our command. So tell me, is there any way that a wizard or witch can just die? Not in battle or of old age, but die of something foolish just like a Muggle?" She could feel that there was some connection to his question and to his fear of death. And while she didn't personally agree with how he viewed the divide between wizards and the no-maj, she actually considered what her answer would be. It seemed like he already had an answer of his own, but then why would he be asking her in the first place?

"Well, of course. It doesn't happen as often, but it definitely happens," she reasoned, answering his question honestly, "Why?"

"I don't believe that." It was almost as passionate as it was desperate, as if he was trying to convince both of them that she was wrong. Hazel could recognize denial when she saw it, and she knew that living like this, lying to yourself, would only blow up in your face. Riddle was looking at her imploringly, like he wanted her to go along with his beliefs. But she had to be true to herself, even if it had consequences.

"Then don't," it was alarmingly gentle, as if she was talking to a child, "But we are just human when it comes down to it, our bodies are just as frail. Death comes for us all eventually." She didn't know she could feel so wistful, but existentialism just seemed to have that effect on her. She had thought about the idea of death often, especially after her brush with it. Where do people go when they die, who comes to lead them there, if every death has already been scheduled by the fates, etc. She had learned to find comfort in not knowing, which seems to be the exact opposite of how Riddle felt.

"I change my mind, you are useless to me," he growled as he entered the classroom, clearly not pleased with her answer. She took a second to calm herself before entering the room as well. Of course Riddle was taking up his normal residence in the front of the room. Hazel, however, was content to sit in the back. It wasn't long before other students began to join them, and slowly the room filled until all the seats were taken. She found herself sitting next to the Ravenclaw girl who had sent Myrtle running from the Great Hall. She wasn't actually too bad once you started to talk to her. It turns out that the reason she had separated Myrtle from her before was that the other girl was already getting bullied, and she didn't need anything else to be made fun of for, like annoying a Slytherin. Hazel could kind of understand it; in her own way, the girl was protecting the other Ravenclaw.

"Hello class, and welcome to Ancient Runes! We're just going to jump right in! Please get out your book and start translating the Egyptian hieroglyphs on the board, which were used by the ancient wizards and witches of the Pharaohs to guard their secrets," the professor began, cutting her off before she could think to ask the other girl her name. It wasn't necessarily difficult to translate the runes, it was more so just time consuming. She had to be careful not to accidentally misinterpret a symbol, but she found the task rather calming in it's mind numbing repetition. She was out the door the moment the class was over, not wanting to get stuck walking with Riddle all the way to the Slytherin common room. But she didn't get very far before she ran into Dumbledore, who had apparently been on his way to fetch her.

"Ms. Walker, if I may steal you for your break?"

"Sure, I wasn't doing anything important," she assured, walking alongside the professor. It was fascinating, the way the students parted for him like the Red Sea. She wondered if they did it without even noticing, just moving aside as his magic guided them to, or if they saw him coming and did it out of respect.

"So, I have given some thought as to an appropriate space for you to practice your archery, and I think I know the perfect place," he explained as he lead to to the seventh floor. She hadn't made her way up here yet, given that she didn't have any classes in this part of Hogwarts. It was oddly deserted, and it occurred to her that there weren't any classrooms up here, at least on this long stretch of hallway. Instead, the corridor was lined with paintings and portraits.

"Really? That'd be great!," she exclaimed, excited as she had thought he had forgotten about her hobby, "I'm sure I'm a bit rusty though, it's been years."

"From the last time I saw you shoot a bow, I'd say you'd be surprised how easily it'll come back to you," he chuckled, as if he knew something she didn't. And given his age and experience, that was very possible.

"This is the Room of Requirement," he announced, gesturing to a section of the wall covered by a curtain, "It is very powerful, so use it wisely. I only know about it from the house elves, so I implore you to keep it secret as well. The way it works is that you walk past it three times, being sure to clearly think about what you need, and when the door appears, you'll find what you asked for." He demonstrated the process for her as he explained it, and she couldn't help but gasp in delight as a door appeared. It was rather unassuming as it looked like every other door in the castle, but she could feel magic pulsing behind it.

"This is incredible," she murmured as they entered, taking in the state of the art archery range inside, "Thank you for trusting me with something like this, Professor Dumbledore."

"I have a feeling you'll use it for great things." He said it with confidence, but she could detect the warning between his words.

"That's a lot of faith in someone like me. You know what I've done, what I'm capable of," she pointed out with a sad smile.

"And do you know how strong you must be to overcome that?" he asked gently, which gave her pause.

"I've never thought of myself like that," she admitted, head down. She didn't want to see whatever soft expression was on his face, it would probably make her cry right now. It was true, she had been so focused on making sure she never repeated the incident that she had never realized how it had changed her.

"You'll realize in time, Ms. Walker, just how truly special you are." It was almost eerie, how she had heard the same thing twice now in less than a week from two different professors. It felt like a message, but she didn't know who it was from or what it implied. Being special wasn't always a good thing, she knew this well.

"Huh, that's funny," she chuckled, even though it really wasn't, "The Divination Professor told me the same thing after looking at the tarot card deck you bought me."

"Oh really?" He didn't sound surprised, more like perplexed? There was something in his eyes, some kind of uncertainty as he looked at her, and she didn't know what it meant.

"Yeah, it was really weird. She also said I was in a state of transformation?" she admitted as well, just to see what his reaction would be. But her pushing didn't get her anywhere, as Dumbledore just nodded encouragingly, whatever he had been thinking previously now hidden away. It reminded her of Riddle, and she felt nervous as she realized that the men were oddly complimentary in how they held themselves. Whereas the teenager projected confidence and intelligence, the professor acted humble and soft.

"Hmm, interesting," he hummed, before it occurred to him how long they had been talking, "Ah, it would seem that I have used up most of your break, I better let you head to your next class."

"Oh! Yeah, I better get going before I'm late for Potions," she agreed, slowly making her way to the door without turning her back completely on the man, "Thank you again, Professor."

"And Ms. Walker? Remember what I told you; be careful about who you trust here." This level of seriousness was off putting from the normally jolly wizard, and it stressed her out even more than the other things she had picked up on during this conversation.

"Of course, sir," she confirmed as she left to scurry down to the dungeons, confused and concerned as to why he felt the need to reiterate himself.

"Hey, where were you?" Abraxas asked as she landed on the seat next to him just as Slughorn was beginning the class, giving them some last minute hints and reminders before setting them loose to brew the assigned potion.

"Sorry, I got distracted. So are you ready to brew the Draught of Peace?"

"Yeah, let's kick some ass."

Hazel's life at Hogwarts fell easily into a routine after that first week. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner with the boys, classes, homework, hanging out with Rubeus and Odon during Care for Magical Creatures, disappearing after breakfast on Fridays and spending the entire day in the Room of Requirement, and attending Quidditch practices and matches on Saturdays. After their conversation on the way to Ancient Runes, her and Riddle interacted very little. He spent most of his time in the library after that first week, but none of the boys would tell her what he was researching exactly. She couldn't find herself to care that much, given that it kept him away from her. It was easier to not think about him when she didn't have to see him. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, she was always paired with Abraxas, even though he always went easy on her. She found the practical experience dramatically helped her in yielding her wand, though her wandless magic still proved to be easier. She had even shown her friend some frivolous examples of her wandless capabilities, such as summoning books or tripping Lestrange in the hallway. He found it hilarious, but he never asked about how she was so familiar with it or what all she could do.

Like Dumbledore had said, her archery skills had come back to her very quickly, and she was then able to begin advancing her technique. When simply shooting at stationary targets became too easy, the Room of Requirement added in moving targets. Whether she was shooting her arrows or throwing her knives, she felt the most comfortable here, in her element. She could challenge herself, could let her magic expand to fill the room, could just be herself. She didn't have to act nice, she didn't have to look pretty; she could just exist. Dumbledore would ask her about her hobby in passing, but he never came to watch her. Although the boys were curious where she disappeared to on Fridays, they respected her privacy when she said it was her alone time. Hazel had been honing her skills. Speeding up her arrows to hit the moving targets, being able to control their exact movements. No longer could she just curve their path, she could allow them to avoid obstacles and change direction on a whim. There was a certain level of sentience to the Room of Requirement, something she picked up on very quickly. Every time she let her magic loose, the room always answered it like she was an old friend. It provided everything that she could ever need to train, from targets to dummies to polish for her bow and a sharpening stone for her knives. She always made sure to thank the room, as she wasn't naive enough to assume it's magic didn't come at some sort of price.

September gave way to October seamlessly, and before she even knew it, it was almost Halloween. The boys had become obsessed with playing tricks on each other, starting some sort of prank war that she stayed out of. One day, Abraxas had even come to breakfast with Slytherin green hair, which in turn had resulted in Lestrange losing his eyebrows. Of course, she had been responsible for fixing both of their appearances, but she didn't mind all that much. "Accidentally" turning Abraxas' hair pink before returning it to his original blonde had been worth all his ire.

"Ms. Walker, if I may walk with you to your first class?" Dumbledore ambushed them one day as they were leaving breakfast. It had been a normal Monday like any other, so none of them had been expecting it.

"Um, sure," she allowed, though she was wary. Normally when the professor wanted to talk to her, he would separate her from the group, but this time, he just joined them as they walked. All the boys were whispering to each other and very clearly listening in, even Riddle, though he hid it better. They were all tense, except Dumbledore, who walked next to her with a pep in his step.

"As you know, your birthday is coming up very quickly, as is the first Hogsmeade weekend," he began, but she didn't really know what he was getting at. He was looking at her expectantly, but she really hadn't even thought about her birthday.

"Oh, I had honestly forgotten about my birthday. I haven't celebrated it since before I started school at Ilvermorny," she admitted, which sounded rather pathetic now that she had said it. Even Dumbledore looked surprised at that, and here she had thought he had known everything about her during her previous education experiences.

"Well, in case you would like to purchase anything at Hogsmeade, I have arranged a stipend for you," he announced, continuing before she could argue or turn it down, "And before you say anything, consider it an early birthday present from myself."

"Oh, thank you," she mumbled, though it still made her uncomfortable that he felt the need to treat her differently than the other students. It was the same scenario that she had experienced with the Headmaster of Ilvermorny, and it hadn't gone too well for her then.

"I'll let you and your friends get to class then," he decided as he moseyed off, as if he could tell that he had inadvertently troubled her. Hazel was waiting for the boys to begin making fun of her for getting special treatment, but they surprised her when they really didn't care beyond being curious.

"Why didn't you tell us your birthday was coming up?" Abraxas accused with narrow eyes. She had been better about being open with him, so this was potentially a setback in his eyes.

"And why did Dumbledore give you a stipend, does your family not send you any money?" Avery asked next, and she could almost tell that he was moments away from offering her money himself. It hadn't been a surprise when she had realized that this group of boys was the elite of the Slytherins for a reason; their families were prominent and wealthy in the wizarding community. But they had been smart enough to directly ask her about her family or about anything involving money, though that's because they probably assumed she was like them.

"I mean, Walker doesn't even have an owl, so how could she receive anything?" Nott pointed out with an eye roll at his friend's obliviousness.

"Like I said, I had forgotten about it," she reiterated, with was the truth, before giving Avery a vague answer "And something like that, my family and I don't talk much." It was an honest answer, given that she hadn't had any contact with her parents since she started Ilvermorny, but it wasn't the whole truth. How could they send her money when they themselves were no-maj?

"So when is your birthday?" Abraxas asked as they took their normal seats in the History of Magic classroom. Riddle, instead of taking his seat as well, as leaning against Dolohov and Nott's desk, staying included in the conversation even though he hadn't said anything.

"October 31st."

"Your birthday is on Halloween? How cool is that!" Lestrange gushed, given his interest in the meanings behind holidays.

"Man, this trip to Hogsmeade is gonna be awesome," Avery commented, which moved the conversation to their plans for the first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year. Riddle, no longer interested in the conversation, took his usual seat just as class began.

"So what do you want for your birthday?" Hazel was surprised that Abraxas had managed to hold the question for so long. He had made it all the way until their last class of the day, Defense Against the Dark Arts, before he couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, I don't want anything," she replied flatly, hoping that he would let it go all while knowing that he wouldn't.

"Come on, I just want to get you a gift. It isn't a birthday celebration without a gift!" he insisted with a wide smile.

"Abraxas, really, you don't have to. And who says there's going to be a celebration?"

"There's the Halloween Feast, I'd call that a celebration. And please, just let me get you something? As your best friend?" Of course he had to break out the sad eyes and use how much she cared about him as leverage; the little snake was a true Slytherin even though he didn't show it as often as the others.

"Fine," she conceded, which caused him to cheer, "But nothing expensive!"

"Just you wait, I'm going to find you the perfect gift!" With that, he left her side to pull Avery aside from the group, as if he was planning something.

"Why did that feel like a mistake?" she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. Any control she had over how she was going to spend her birthday was definitely gone, given that she wouldn't be able to say no to any of her best friend's plans.

"Probably because we both know him too well to expect this to go well," Riddle answered from next to her, making her jump. She hadn't noticed that he was in her vicinity. It was a surprise, however, that he had bothered to talk to her after two months of silence. It felt like a bad omen. She was saved from having to respond to him by Professor Merrythought beginning the class.

"Hello class! As you all know, I've been very impressed with the progress you all have been showing! That's why today I would like to shake things up a bit. Instead of dueling your normal partners, I will be pairing you up against a duelist of equal ability of my choice," she announced. There was mixed reactions around the class. Some people, namely the girls, were excited about possibly getting paired with their crushes. And then some students were nervous, unsure about dueling someone new. They had become comfortable with their normal partners, had a level of trust that they wouldn't take things too fair. Hazel didn't know what to think. She was a capable duelist, she knew that. But she wasn't on the level of Malfoy, who was easily one of the top 5 duelists in the entire fifth year class. She really had no idea who the professor was going to pair her against.

"Oh man Lestrange, I can already see you getting put up against a Hufflepuff," Nott teased, throwing an arm over his target's shoulders. And while Hazel didn't normally put any stock in stereotypes, it was true that Hufflepuffs weren't very aggressive duelists. But that didn't mean that they were bad duelists in any case.

"That's not funny man," he growled in response, shrugging the arm off of him. He didn't like being reminded that while he was the player of the group, he was also the worst duelist.

"Why, because it's true?" Dolohov jabbed, dodging a Stinging Hex that was directed his way with a laugh.

"Once you have been assigned an opponent, please claim an area of the classroom away from other duels. Let's all please try and be as safe as possible, is that understood?"

Hazel had to admit, most of the pairing were pretty fair up to this point. It was clear that Professor Merrythought had put a lot of thought into this, making it a challenge for both parties while also playing to their strengths. That's probably why she was so surprised when she learned who she was going to be dueling against.

"Riddle vs Walker!" She was frozen, trying to understand the professor's thought process as the whispers started up. Riddle was the best duelist in their class, and while she wasn't bad by any means, she definitely wasn't at his level. She wasn't surprised that it gained some attention with the rest of the students present.

"You've got to be kidding me," some girl whined, her hopes of being paired with the prefect dashed.

"I thought she said duelists of equal strength, there's no way the transfer student can compete with Riddle," a Gryffindor boy scoffed, clearly thinking he should've been given the opportunity to duel the Slytherin Prince.

"I'm sure he'll take it easy on her," a Hufflepuff assured, though it was clear she had her doubts.

"Nah, I bet he'll send her to the infirmary," another Slytherin laughed.

"Class, please quiet down while I announce the rest of the pairings," Merrythought ordered, silencing the whispers as she continued with the rest of the pairings.

"Of course it would be you," she muttered lowly as Riddle led her towards a corner of the room, all the other duelists moving out of the way as he did so.

"Should I take that as a compliment?" he asked with a smirk, thoroughly enjoying her discomfort.

"Take it as you will," she hissed, blushing when the asshole just winked.

"Okay, has everyone found their opponents and found a safe place to duel?" the professor asked as the room went silent, waiting for her instructions. It was tense, each pairing facing each other and ready to go. Riddle held his wand leisurely, like he knew it wouldn't be separated from him. In contrast, Hazel was gripping her's so hard that it was groaning in protest.

"In three, two, one, duel!"

Professor Merrythought had barely said to begin, and she was already forced to throw up a shield. It seemed Riddle had decided to take the offence, throwing spell after spell at her. They were mostly harmless, Full Body-Bind Curses and Stunning Spells. That's why she didn't expect it when suddenly her shield was shattered, and she was sent flying back by Everte Statum. Landing on the concrete floor took her breath away, but she managed to throw up a smokescreen before he could hex her while she was down. She took a moment to get up, hiding safely behind her spell as she thought of her approach. That was when she heard Riddle udder the incantation for the Human-presence-revealing Spell. Quickly, she sent a jet of water his way, only for him to freeze it. She cast the Blasting Curse at the ice, causing it to explode. It dispersed her smokescreen in the process, but it also sent Riddle tumbling backwards. He looked genuinely surprised that she had managed to knock him down, but even from the ground he was capable of blocking the Stunning Spell she sent his way. When she cast Vermillious Tria, she was forced to immediately throw up a shield as he redirected it back at her, the red sparks colliding in a blinding display of light. Maybe that was why she didn't notice the Disarming Charm he followed it with. Not only did it break her shield, but it also sent her wand flying out of her hand. And that should've been the end of the duel, but it seemed Riddle was out for blood. He made eye contact as he cast his next curse, like he wanted her to know he was doing it on purpose. Even as she stood there, supposedly defenseless without her wand, he wasn't done.

Hazel didn't even have time to think before the Blasting Curse was almost upon her. It was a more powerful version of the one she had used to blast apart the ice, and she knew that if it connected with it's target, she may not survive. It must've come as a surprise to Riddle when she managed to redirect it back at him wandlessly. In the time it had taken him to extinguish the curse, she had reached out for her wand with her magic, and it flew back into her hand obediently. They stood opposite of each other, panting as they waited for the other to make a move. It was quite clear that Riddle was ultimately the better duelist, but in underestimating her, they had become equals momentarily. But before either of them could cast the next curse, Professor Merrythought was calling for their attention.

"Okay class! Please cease dueling immediately, that's it for today!"

"Walker!" the prefect called after her sharply as she grabbed her bag and scurried out the door, using the crowd of students to avoid him catching up with her.

"Hazel?" Abraxas asked, confused when she just pushed past him and disappeared down the hallway. She was in panic mode, and even though she should've been heading to the Great Hall, she didn't want to face Riddle again. There was only one place she could think of that he wouldn't dare look for her; Dumbledore's office.

"Ms. Walker? What's wrong?" he asked, startled as she entered his office in a flurry of movement before immediately shutting the door behind her.

"Riddle, he saw me," she explained through her panting from running here, pacing the office.

"He saw you?" he repeated carefully, not quite understanding what she meant. She groaned, collapsing childishly onto the red couch he had pushed up against a wall, sending a few papers that had been on it flying into the air.

"We were dueling, and my wand got away from me, and he saw me use my wandless magic," she rambled, ashamed of herself. She shouldn't have lost her wand in the first place, she should've been smart enough to not fall for his tricks.

"Ah," was all he said, relaxing back into his chair as if there was no cause for concern.

"Ah? That's all you have to say? That's all your wise advice?" she asked incredulously. It wasn't as if he didn't care, it was more so that he didn't seem to be worried about what this meant for her.

"I expected it to happen at some point," he admitted, popping a lemon drop into his mouth, "Did anyone else see you?" It made her deflate somewhat, knowing that he had just been waiting for her to slip up.

"No, I don't think so," she answered dejectedly. Everyone else had been focused on their own matches, and the professor hadn't been watching them.

"Have you tried talking to Riddle? He seems to have a good head on his shoulders from what his other professors tell me." There was something about the way he had worded the assessment that gave her pause; Dumbledore hadn't actually said what he thought of the prefect. In fact, he was careful not to.

"But you don't think that?" she pushed, to which he sighed.

"When I first met the boy, he had been gravely abusing his magic. He's never done so again to my knowledge, but I've never quite forgotten that," he explained, with her hanging on every word.

"How did he abuse his magic? Like me?" They both knew what she was asking; had he killed someone?

"I'm sorry Ms. Walker, but that's private," he gently admonished her, "You'll have to ask him that."

"What if I don't want to see him?" It was petulant, but Dumbledore seemed amused with her attitude.

"That may be difficult considering you have classes with him," he chuckled, but when she just groaned and buried her face in the couch, he continued, "If it makes you any happier, there's a surprise that I've arranged for you on Thursday. You don't have any other classes after lunch that day, correct?"

"I don't know if I can handle anymore surprises," she muttered, but answered seriously when he continued to look at her expectantly, "But yes, I'm free."

"I have a feeling you'll like this one. Now, you should get to dinner before they stop serving food." It was more of a command than a suggestion, and she knew a dismissal when she heard one. She waved goodbye as she headed out the door and into the hallway. But she didn't know whether she should go to the Great Hall or go straight to the dorm and just skip dinner.

"Hazel?" She was so on edge that being startled caused her to almost hex Abraxas, who had been the one to scare her.

"Don't scare me like that!" she yelled, punching the blond in the shoulder as she tried to catch her breath again.

"You scared me when you just ran off after class like that! I thought you'd been hurt or something in your duel!" So he must not have talked to Riddle after their match, either that or the prefect hadn't told him anything. She felt a little guilty for scaring him, and she considered telling him what happened. But that would mean explaining that her opponent had been ready to maim her when she was unarmed.

"No, I'm fine," she soothed before continuing with a half-assed explanation, "I just needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore again after this morning."

"Oh, about your birthday?"

"Yeah, he apparently has another gift for me after lunch on Thursday."

"You could've just told me that before disappearing on us," he sighed, though he didn't really seem angry at her.

"Have you been looking for me this entire time?" She felt guilty for worrying him and for lying, but it was for the best.

"Yes, so we should go get some dinner before we're left to go hungry."

For all of Tuesday and Wednesday, Riddle watched her every movement closely. She had to be careful to never get caught alone by the prefect, not for lack of trying on his end. She dragged Abraxas around like a shield, which he allowed with little questioning, just assuming she was being clingier than normal. It wasn't until she had been leaving the Great Hall after lunch on Thursday that he had managed to catch her alone. Like her, he didn't have any other classes for the day, while the rest of the boys did. It was the perfect opportunity for him.

"You're one hard girl to get alone, you know that?" he mused darkly as he appeared next to her in the hall.

"Not hard enough apparently," she bantered in return, trying to stall him. However, Riddle was definitely not in the mood for being jerked around today. Those dark eyes of his were slightly crazed, and if she was wary of him on a good day, this was a bad day.

"So, I believe we have some matters to discuss-"

"Ms. Walker, glad I could find you. The surprise that I told you about on Monday has just arrived, and I'm thrilled to see your reaction," Dumbledore started as he rounded the corner in front of them, looking absolutely peachy, "Ah, Mr. Riddle, you're welcome to join us, if that's okay with the birthday girl?"

"Oh, um, yeah, sure," she allowed, partially because she didn't want to upset the prefect and partially because she wanted support for this surprise of his.

"I'd love to," the other Slytherin charmingly stated, before lowering his voice until only she could hear him, "You have the best luck I have ever seen."

"Or maybe you just have the worst," she whispered in return, and she could see his eye twitch as he suppressed his reaction to that.

"Mr. Riddle, if you could please cover Ms. Walker's eyes while I retrieve her surprise," Dumbledore asked, apparently throwing her under the bus.

"Of course, Professor," he obliged cheerfully, moving behind her to do so. It was oddly intimate, as he was pressed up against her and using both his hands to obstruct her sight. All she could feel was him and his magic, all she could smell was him; it was overwhelming.

"Really, how long did you expect to be able to avoid me?" he asked her, and his breath against her neck made her shiver.

"Longer than this," she squeaked, which made him chuckle. It sounded deeper than normal, or maybe that was just because she could feel it, could hear it echo in his chest.

"So do you want to explain to me how you can-" He cut off suddenly, and she was silently relieved that Dumbledore had returned.

"Okay, Mr. Riddle, if you would please?" And then there was light. She had to squint slightly, but she stopped breathing when she took in her surprise.

"Hello, Ghost Eyes," he greeted warmly, looking exactly as he had the day he had sent her away to Hogwarts.

"Mr. Coyote," she all but stuttered, trying to process the presence of the man in front of her. Hazel hadn't ever expected to see her past teacher again, given her experiences with her other ones. But here he was, standing proudly in his jeans and boots in the Scottish Highlands. He looked so out of place, but he owned it, comfortable in his own skin.

"You really didn't think I'd miss your birthday, did you?" he asked with a chuckle, looking over her carefully as if to make sure she was okay, "I figured you'd want to spend the actual day with your friends, Albus has told me you have many, so I came early." It was like she could suddenly breath again, as she ran forward until she collided with the shaman. She buried her face and his chest, and she had to make a conscious effort not to cry.

"I've missed you too," he murmured, hugging her in return. She jerked away suddenly when she remembered their audience, but he kept ahold of her hand.

"Mr. Iktomi is an honored guest of the school, why don't you show him around, Ms. Walker?" Dumbledore suggested, basically sparkling in his excitement.

"I'd love that," the animagus commented, squeezing her hand, before he noticed the other student still hanging around, "Ah, are you a friend of Hazel's?"

"Yes, we're in the same house. I'm Tom Marvolo Riddle, pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Iktomi," he introduced himself, stepping forward.

"I'm happy to hear that. Thank you for watching after her, Mr. Riddle." There was a sharpness in his gaze and a strength in his hold as he shook the prefect's hand, as if he was purposely trying to intimidate the Slytherin. But the pale boy wasn't so easy to shake, in fact, he returned the handshake just as well with a smile.

"It's been my pleasure," he assured, perfectly polite as ever.

"Mr. Riddle and I will take our leave now, let you two have some time to yourselves," Dumbledore decided, Riddle following his lead obediently, but not without looking back at her as if to say he wasn't done with her yet.

"You didn't write," she accused quietly as she lead them through the courtyard. She didn't really have a destination in mind, but it was beautiful out here despite the cooling temperatures.

"Neither did you," he pointed out, which only served to anger her.

"You sent me away," she hissed, that feeling of betrayal that she had buried for the last two months rearing it's ugly head.

"We talked about this-"

"No, you talked about it," she interrupted vehemently, "I didn't have a say."

"Has it been that awful here? Are you unhappy?" he asked, watching her reactions carefully, "I'll take you back with me in a heartbeat if you say so." And she would've done anything to hear those words at one point, but she couldn't imagine just leaving. Not seeing Abraxas everyday, not listening to Lestrange flirt with anything that moved, not watching Nott kick ass on the Quidditch field, not seeing Riddle with his head buried in a book; she couldn't just leave that behind. (At least not without saying goodbye.)

"No, it's not like that-"

"So it was the right decision?" he tried again, and she knew she was backed into a corner, "Please, I came here to spend the day with you. I don't want to spend it this way. I don't think you want to either."

"I don't, but-"

"Hush, let it go. Why don't you show me the creature that you took on a joyride first?" he suggested, which made her blush in embarrassment like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Dumbledore told you about that?"

"He's been keeping me updated. Otherwise I would've been so worried about you that I would've come and stolen you away the day after you left," he chuckled, which made her brighten up. Who knew that feeling cared for was so nice? They weren't too far from the stables, so it was easy for her to drag him there in her excitement. The horse-like creature began to approach them the moment he spotted her, coming up to them without hesitation and headbutting her.

"This is Odon, he's a Thestral," she introduced, petting the beast. He was curious about the shaman, but he was still occupied searching her for any treats.

"He's magnificent," he breathed out, and she would feel the wave of pride from Odon, "I've only ever heard of Thestrals, it's incredible to see one in person. And you rode on him? He let you?"

"Well, I was just sitting on him at the time. He's the one that decided to take me on a joyride," she explained sheepishly, but the man only seemed more interested.

"How incredible!" As he observed the Thestral, she was distracted by movement in her peripheral. She was relieved to find it was just Rubeus, lumbering towards her with his usual smile in place.

"Hazel! Out here visiting Odon again already?" her friend asked, appearing from within the stables and pausing as he saw she wasn't alone, "Oh, hello sir, Rubeus Hagrid."

"Ah, hello, I'm Mr. Iktomi. Are you a friend of Hazel's?" The half-giant was looking at her, as if he didn't want to make assumptions by saying yes or no. Of course he would be that considerate.

"Rubeus is a friend that I share Care of Magical Creatures with," she answered in his place, which make him light up in turn.

"Hazel is a real fine lass, sir," he exclaimed, looking ready to burst into tears. And given that she had seen him cry over baby ducks before, it wouldn't exactly be out of the norm for him.

"That's what I've been hearing," the shaman chuckled, giving her a warm smile. They chatted for a bit about what other creatures they studied in the class, though Odon kept interrupting them with his attention seeking habits, not that they minded. However, she found herself becoming ansty, wanting to show off more of the school to her mentor.

"We've got to get moving on," she announced, ready to continue with their tour, "But I'll see you in class!"

"That you will. Remember to bring some bacon, it's Odon's favorite!" he urged her before turning to the other man, "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"What an odd boy," Mr. Coyote commented once they were on their way back to the castle. He seemed to like the Hufflepuff enough, but then again, it was hard to dislike Rubeus in any way.

"He's half giant," she explained, as if that covered everything. And, well, it kind of did. His size, his mannerisms, even his accent; they weren't exactly normal in these parts.

"Ah, that would be it."

"He's an absolute sweetie though. I've never seen someone love creatures of all shapes and sizes quite like Rubeus," she gushed, smiling at the thought of the gentle giant, "Come on, I want to show you the Slytherin common room. And I can show you some of the things that Dumbledore bought me!"

"Slytherin is your house, correct?"

"Yep! The sorting hat put me in it. I was so scared when I was getting sorted, but nothing bad happened this time," she confessed, thinking about how far she's come since then.

"I'm glad. I also hear you've been using a wand?"

"Yes! Isn't it beautiful?" she asked as she pulled it out of her pocket, showing it to the curious shaman, "Dumbledore gave me a book over wandlore, and it turns out that the hazel wood is supposed to reflect my emotional state, just like my magic. And then the core is a Thestral tail hair, which is funny considering how close I am with Odon." He held it reverently, gently tracing the wood grain. He handed it back to her after a moment, something soft in his gaze.

"I'm proud of you, my little Ghost Eyes." She hadn't been expecting the praise, let alone the fondness behind her nickname, and it made her flustered.

"I'm not little!" she protested weakly, which made him laugh.

"Really? Because you look exactly the same as you did when I first met you," he teased, but it still made her feel defensive.

"I've gotten taller! And I'm turning 16 in less than a week!" He wasn't able to return the banter as she gave the password and the entryway was revealed.

"Wow," he muttered as they entered the Slytherin common room, taking it in much in the same way she had. It still managed to take her breath away, the awe upon entering the luxurious space.

"Right? It's so different than my old room in your little cabin," she teased, but he felt the need to remind her of his previous offer.

"That room will always be yours, should you ever want it again. Long term or just for a visit," he assured her seriously. She didn't get a chance to respond when she was distracted by her friend. Upon noticing her, he had begun to make his way over to her excitedly. She found it oddly reminiscent of a puppy, the way his eyes lit up.

"Walker! What was Professor Dumbledore's surprise? I bet it was-" Abraxas came to a halt after vaulting over the couch, noticing the foreign person next to her.

"Hello, I'm Mr. Iktomi," he introduced himself, clearly amused at the blonde's behavior.

"Mr. Coyote, this is my best friend, Abraxas Malfoy," she explained for both of their benefits, the boy's eyes lighting up at the familiar name.

"Nice to meet you, sir. Hazel has spoken of you fondly before," Abraxas greeted, and it was odd to see her friend being so formal. He was standing up straight, and his shoulders were back in a way that seemed almost painful.

"Oh, has she?" he mused before turning to her, "Ghost Eyes, why don't you go grab the things you wanted to show me from your room while I get to know your friend here." It was a suggestion, and while Abraxas was looking at her pleadingly, she still needed to grab her weapons from her dorm to show him.

"Please don't be too weird," she begged as she hesitated to leave the other Slytherin to the mercy of her teacher.

"I would never," he assured with a smirk that said the exact opposite. She gave her friend a thumbs up to cheer him on before heading up the stairs to her dorm. It took her less than 10 minutes to empty her infinity bag and load her bow, arrows, and knives into it, as well as to change into something more appropriate for her hobby. Of course she put her robes back on over the exercise wear as she normally did to conceal her odd garb. By the time she made it back down to the common room, the shaman had become a coyote and all the boys were fawning over him.

"Walker! Why did you never tell us you studied under an animagus? Can you turn into something too?" Avery bombarded her when she joined them, almost bouncing in his excitement.

"It never came up," she answered vaguely before continuing, "And not yet, he maintains that no one under the age of 18 should be allowed to, given the chances of becoming trapped in the other form."

"Good point," Abraxas noted, though he may have been trying to win some brownie points with Mr. Coyote.

"Now, if I might steal my teacher back?" she requested, causing them to groan.

"Do you have to?" Avery whined.

"No fair, he's so cool," Lestrange pouted, which was seconded by Dolohov. Riddle still wasn't present, but she had a feeling that he was lurking somewhere nearby.

"I'm sorry boys, but I'm Hazel's for the evening," the Native American explained as he shifted back into a human, which had the boys fascinated all over again.

"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Iktomi," Abraxas said politely, shaking the man's hand.

"Please come back and visit Walker sometime soon," Lestrange requested, also stepping forward to shake the shaman's hand. It was clear that the boys had been won over easily by the man and were looking forward to picking his brain again at some point. Mr. Coyote seemed just as charmed by their interest, firmly returning their hand shakes. She guided them out of the dungeons and up the staircases until they reached the seventh floor. It was quite the trek, but he didn't complain. He was bit confused when she started pacing in front of a curtain, so she decided to take pity on him before he thought her insane.

"Okay, so this is the Room of Requirement, it's where I come and do my training," she explained as the door appeared.

"Training?" he echoed questioningly. She could understand, given that he probably was thinking that it involved her learning to fight or something.

"You'll see in a second," she promised, "Anyway, it becomes whatever you need it to be."

"How interesting," he mused as they entered the room, which was set up in her usual archery range. There were targets floating around them, just waiting for her to begin her warm ups. It felt warm, like a hug, like home. The room welcomed her as it always did, and it almost seemed interested by the man at her side.

"So, do you remember how when I still attending Ilvermorny, I had a few hobbies? Well, I've picked them back up and even improved my skills," she rambled as she took everything out of her bag, handing them over to the shaman so he could get a better look. He seemed startled by the weapons at first, until he began to actually study them. Very quickly his skepticism turned to awe.

"These are beautiful. Dumbledore got these for you, you said? I can feel your magic running through all of it, like they are as much a part of you as your wand."

"Just wait until you see what I can do with them," she replied cheekily, which made him laugh. He handed back the bow and arrows, but she let him keep ahold of the knives as she began her warm ups. It wasn't long before she was going through her usual routine, even showing off by guiding two arrows at once. Mr. Coyote watched her closely, even trusting her abilities by walking around the room. She only performed for about an hour, not wanting to waste his time, though he seemed content to observe her with a fond smile.

"Artemis, the Huntress," he mused as she sat down on the ground, joining her, "Your control has improved at least tenfold from when I last saw you. This much progress in this amount of time is unprecedented. But I can see why this training has appealed to you; the physical aspect grounds you, while the focus and discipline teaches you to hone your magic. The possibilities of applying this to your wandless capabilities are endless."

"I haven't done much, if any, wandless magic since I've come here. Dumbledore wanted me to fit in better, so I've been using my wand. It allows me to multitask more because I don't have to constantly focus on controlling my magic, but my spells aren't as powerful," she explained, polishing her bow carefully. The shaman even sharpened her knives for her, and it was much better than when she did it herself, she must admit.

"I still don't understand the use of a wand, but if Albus recommended it, he must have a good reason. Just be careful not to overtax yourself with this; your body will give out long before your magic," he warned, something that she had heard many times before from him, "If any case, I'm so proud of you, Ghost Eyes." Hazel couldn't help but preen under his praise, something warm unfurling in her chest from knowing she had made him proud.

"So what did you think of my friends?" she asked nonchalantly, trying not to show how much his answer mattered to her, "You managed to meet all of them."

"The blonde, Abraxas, cares for you greatly. He's a good boy, a good person, but even good people can do bad things; you know that better than anyone. The others, they are more neutral, a little more ambitious for glory, but they are fond of you. The half-giant thinks very highly of you, but he can be a bit too trusting, a bit too naive," he began, which she found to be mostly fair to her own estimates of the boys in her life, "And then there's the boy I met first, Riddle. He was something different altogether. Don't think I didn't notice that you never actually called him your friend or even talked to him when he took his leave. There was something about him that put me on edge, something dark and unnatural. And then the way his magic kept reaching out for your's, the way it had been wrapped around you when he was touching you; I didn't like it. Please tell me that you're being careful, especially around that boy."

"Yeah, Riddle is an enigma. He's oppressive and sly as a snake, but at his core, I think he's just broken," she mused, thinking about all she had seen from the other teen, "And I can protect myself, you just saw that yourself."

"Ghost Eyes, I have no doubt you can defend yourself physically," he assured, before continuing gently, "I'm more concerned about you mentally and spiritually, the ways in which you are vulnerable and inexperienced."

"Trust me, he isn't close enough to even influence me, let alone hurt me," she scoffed, though that wasn't exactly the whole truth. Riddle had many opportunities to hurt her, he had even taken some of them; but here she was still standing anyway.

"Just please promise me that you are choosing who to trust carefully," he urged, and his words gave her the worst sense of déjà vu.

"You sound like Dumbledore," she groaned, though she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"Albus is a wise man. Now, I do believe that our time together is almost up. Come, I have a birthday surprise of my own for you," he said, getting up from the ground and pulling her up after him.

"But I'm all sweaty and gross," she complained, though she didn't fight him as he grabbed her bag and led her out of the Room of Requirement.

"I lived with you for 2 years in the desert; it matters very little to me at this point," he joked, leading her up a staircase in one of the towers she hadn't explored yet. When they reached the top, she found a huge space just filled with owls. It was loud, given all their cooing and hooting, but it was fascinating.

"What is this place?" she asked, petting a curious owl that had hopped over to her, "I've never been up here before." But she'd definitely have to come back up here sometime and visit with the birds.

"This is what Albus calls the Owlery. However, I got you something, someone, a bit different," he explained before imitating a bird call, and while it sounded familiar, she couldn't tell what it was exactly. She was startled when suddenly a flash of red dove at them from above before coming to land on Mr. Coyote's outstretched arm.

"This is Cetan, he is a red-tailed hawk," he explained, clearly referring to the elegant bird of prey perching on his arm, "He will be your messenger, should you accepted him." And of course she would accept him, both as a present from the shaman and as a new companion, but she knew that this animal wasn't a pet. Just from the way it was looking at her, she could tell that he was an equal. When she reached out with her magic, she found him to have a vibrant energy, and so strong willed that he pressed back just as much onto her.

"I think I want him to accept me first," she decided aloud, and she could feel the wave of approval from Cetan. It would take a bit of time and effort to win him over, but he seemed to be a magnificent creature. She could almost picture herself in the future flying on the back of Odon, with this hawk racing along beside them. It brought a smile to her face, and it appeared that the hawk wasn't opposed to that idea.

"I taught you well," the Native American mused, watching her patiently wait for the hawk to decide to walk onto her arm from his. He didn't take long to do so, and he was heavier than she was expecting. Sharp talons pressed through her robes easily, but it seemed to be making an effort not to puncture her skin. Hazel would have to remember to spell her robes to prevent any damage to them or to herself, either that or to buy an arm guard for the hawk to land on.

"Oh, keep it to yourself, you old goat," she scoffed, though it was clear that she was very happy with her new companion.

"Now you have no excuse for not writing to me," he scolded her lightly, though there was something nervous in his eyes, as if he wasn't sure she wanted to keep in touch with him.

"I'll write to you so often you'll get sick of me," she promised, fully intending to keep her word. Now that they had been reunited, she didn't want to lose contact with her mentor ever again. She had missed him more than she had even known and seeing him again had truly been a gift.

"That's impossible, my little Ghost Eyes," he whispered, pulling her into a one-armed hug, considering Cetan was still perched on her arm, "Now, I do believe it is time for you to get to dinner, and for me to leave. Allow me to walk you to the Great Hall."

"It would be my pleasure," she assured, leaving the embrace to find the hawk a place in the Owlery. As owls were also predators, she wasn't too worried about him not getting along with the other birds. She would have to check in on him sometime in any case, just to get to know him.

"I'm glad you came today," she admitted as they descended the staircase, wanting to let him know how much it meant to her, "It was wonderful."

"I'm glad too. I was so worried that I had made the right decision," he divulged, before becoming a bit more firm, "But remember, you are always welcome to come back to stay with me. I know you have a life here, friends, but there will always be a home waiting for you should you need or want it."

"Thank you, Mr. Coyote." She was smiling, but her voice warbled slightly as she tried not to cry.

"Now get to dinner, you better be eating enough," he fretted as they arrived outside the Great Hall, picking up on her emotional state, "I remember what a picky eater you were."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she dismissed him playfully as she rubbed at her eyes, not expecting the way his face softened as he seemed to take her in.

"I know," he breathed, pulling her into a final hug. When they separated, she watched as he walked away, presumably to go find Dumbledore to say his goodbyes to the professor as well. She took a moment to compose herself, even casting a spell to clean all the sweat and feathers off of her, before entering the Great Hall. It wasn't hard to spot her group of boys at the Slytherin table, given that the other students tended to give them space.

"Walker!" Avery called out as he saw her approaching them, "We weren't sure if you were going to be joining us tonight. Where's Mr. Iktomi?"

"He had to get back to the states, he just left," she explained, taking her usual seat next to Abraxas, who was already preparing her a plate.

"He was so cool!" Lestrange hailed, which the others immediately seconded.

"He's the best," she agreed warmly, something like peace settling over her for the first time today.

"Oh yeah!" Abraxas gasped as he remembered something apparently, getting her attention, "I know Fridays are your days to be alone, but we actually have a Quidditch match tomorrow. Well, it's not an official match or anything, it's more of a friendly game against the Gryffindors, so you don't have to come if you don't want to-"

"I'll be there," she assured, cutting off his rambling, "I gotta be there to cheer my boys on, now don't I?"

"That's what we like to hear!" Nott cheered, throwing an arm around Lestrange.

Dinner was rather uneventful after that, as was the time they spent hanging out in the common room before going to bed. Of course Riddle stayed behind as they dispersed, but none of them commented. She slept in that Friday, not in a rush as the match wasn't until the afternoon and some of the boys had class in the morning. She did eventually make it to lunch though, being careful to watch out for the prefect, who was still trying to corner her. It was a surprise when he decided to join them as they began to make their way to the Quidditch field, but she assumed that it was a way to keep an eye on her. As Abraxas and Nott headed into the locker rooms, the rest of them climbed up the stands to get a good seat to watch from. It was only once all the players were in the air above the field and caught in a heated discussion that she realized something was wrong.

"Hey, Abraxas, what's going on?" she called out as he flew over towards where they sat, a look of frustration on his face.

"Our Seeker has detention, and since this isn't an official game he can't get out of trouble for it. And we can't play without a Seeker," he stressed, clearly frustrated with the turn of events.

"Oh no!" she sympathized, to which he nodded.

"Yeah, so it looks like we'll just have to reschedule unless we can-" he began, cutting himself off as he apparently realized something, turning to stare pleadingly at Riddle.

"No," his target deadpanned, somehow resisting those puppy eyes. But given that the prefect didn't have a heart, it made sense.

"Oh, come on. Just this once?" he begged, but the other Slytherin merely looked at him with a deadpan.

"What, Malfoy? You couldn't think of anyone else to be your Seeker?" one of the Gryffindors chortled from the other side of the field, getting their attention as he antagonizing both of them, "Mr. Prefect there hasn't even played before, he probably doesn't even know how to play Quidditch! I've never even seen him on a broom before!"

"I'm in. Just this once, do you understood?" Riddle hissed, standing up elegantly and making his way down to the locker rooms, "Do you have a spare broom I can use?"

"Yeah, of course," Abraxas stammered, clearly not expecting the turn of events but eagerly following behind his new Seeker. Hazel was astonished that the Slytherin Prince had given in just with a little mocking, but she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how out of character it was.

"Talk to me as I walk, what are some strategies-" she couldn't hear any more of their conversation as they disappeared out of view, but the moment they had, she turned to the other boys.

"He doesn't know how to play Quidditch, does he?"

"I'm sure he knows the basics and the rules, but no, he has no idea. He's been to maybe one match before? I'm frankly surprised he came to this one," Lestrange admitted, clearly unsure of what his friend was doing.

"I mean, if anyone can pull this off, it's Riddle," Dolohov pointed out, to which they mumbled in agreement. She had to give the prefect credit, he was incredibly capable of adapting to situations and thinking on his feet. But she didn't know how he would do if he took a hit.

Hazel was used to seeing Abraxas in his Keeper gear and Nott as a Beater, but seeing Riddle on the field was foreign. He looked too dignified, too delicate, perched upon a borrowed broom. She could almost feel the Gryffindors planning on how to take him down a few pegs, and she didn't need her magic expanded for that. It was written on their faces, the desire to win, to prove themselves. It put her on edge, and she couldn't help but hide the lower part of her face behind her scarf as the game began. Even from the very beginning it was brutal, with both teams fouling twice as much as they normally did in an official match. But this game was different, they weren't performing for an audience, it wasn't for a tournament, it wasn't for a cup; this was purely for pride and bragging rights. The stands, which were normally full, had only a fourth of the seats taken, if that. The only other Slytherins present were groupies for the team and fangirls for the boys. There was a surprising amount of Hufflepuffs, but that was probably because they hung out in the stands when there weren't any games, so they just happened to be here. Reporters for the school newspaper were foaming at the mouth, taking picture after picture of the Slytherin Prince playing Seeker.

She had to admit, for someone who had never been on a Quidditch field before, Riddle was holding his own. Yes, he had been clipped a few times by opposing players, but he had yet to be full-on hit. Nott, on the other hand, was almost inhuman in how often he got hit head-on by Bludgers and players alike and somehow still managed to get up and continue playing. The game had been going on for almost two hours at this point, and the members of both teams were beginning to look a little worse for wear. But still they managed to keep going, and it seemed like they were somehow playing even rougher now. The rules seemed to be getting laxer and laxer, given how many times fouls had gone unpunished. Gryffindor currently had the lead, but the Slytherins weren't far behind. Both of the Seekers had been close to catching the Snitch at some point, but still neither of them had managed to get a hold on the little shit.

Hazel had been cheering so loudly with Avery that her throat was beginning to hurt, and the chill in the air certainly didn't help. At multiple points in time she had found herself cuddling into the plush blanket that Riddle had originally brought for himself and left in the stands. If he noticed her stealing his throw, he made no indication. But given how focused he was on the Snitch and on the other players and balls, a dragon could probably fly by, and he wouldn't notice. She was currently wrapped up in the blanket when she saw it; Riddle closing in on the Snitch. He had taken the approach of floating high above where the players normally flew and just watching, only taking off when he caught a glimpse. It seemed to be working in his favor as the other Seeker, who flew around the field without a plan and relied on luck to put the Snitch in his sights, was clearly exhausted. Riddle was leaning down so much that he was basically laying on the broomstick, his hand outstretched and only inches from the golden ball.

But he was so focused on the Snitch that he must've lost track of where everyone was. There was a Gryffindor that had apparently also noticed the opening, because the Beater was barreling towards the temporary Seeker with everything he had, something like mania in his eyes. Riddle had the Snitch in his fingertips when suddenly the other player hit him like a freight train from the side. She could see it in slow motion, and it reminded her of a car getting T-boned by a truck. The prefect didn't even know what hit him, given that he was knocked unconscious on contact. The Beater carried on his way, baring his teeth victoriously, as Riddle fell from his broom. Malfoy must've also seen it happen, because he had left his post and was zooming towards the falling body of his friend, but Hazel knew he wouldn't be able to catch him before he hit the ground. Riddle was falling too fast, and Malfoy was just too far away. He was screaming for someone, anyone, to catch him, but none of the other players heard him over the gameplay and the shouting between the teams.

She didn't even think before reaching out with her magic. She surrounded Riddle's body in her magic just like she would with an arrow or knife, and took control of his descent. She had never done this with something so large, so heavy, and she found she actually had to reach out with both arms to even have a chance. Riddle's magic was intertwining with her own frantically, giving her a better hold over his body so she could focus on actually slowing his fall. She wasn't able to stop it completely, but she managed to slow it down enough so that he didn't break anything on impact with the ground. The moment his body hit the field, she fell back into the stand like a puppet with it's strings cut. Her magic felt like an elastic band that had been stretched too far, and her arms were completely numb. On top of that, she was panting like she had just run a marathon.

"Walker?" Avery squawked, clearly caught between worrying about Riddle and showing concern for her.

"I'm fine. Avery, you get out on the field, they need a new Seeker stat," she ordered, to which he immediately nodded before running off into the depths of the stands and presumably the Slytherin locker rooms, "Dolohov, I need you to help me get Riddle off the field and to the Hospital Wing."

"You sure you don't need to go to the infirmary yourself? You don't look so good-" he began, clearly hesitant about listening to her, especially when she was in this kind of weakened state.

"I'm just exhausted. Riddle could have internal bleeding. Which do you think is more important?" she challenged, which effectively shut him up, "That's what I thought. Lestrange, you stay here until the match is over and let them know what's going on."

"I can do that," he stammered, panicking slightly but glad to be out of her warpath. She made sure to hide her dizziness as she got back on her feet, not wanting to concern any of them further. With that, Dolohov and Hazel made their way down onto the field, keeping an eye out for any incoming players or stray balls as they made their way over to Riddle. He was still unconscious, but he didn't necessarily look bad. There was no blood, no bones poking out from under his skin, and she'd consider that a win. It was only when the other Slytherin went to pick him up suddenly that she lost herself for a moment.

"Don't touch him!" she snapped, causing the boy to jump away from the prefect in shock, and she continued with an explanation when he looked at her as if she was crazy, "If he has a neck or back injury, we could kill him. We'll have to levitate him. We need to move fast but carefully, okay?" He seemed to understand how severe the other's injuries could be, as he nodded frantically. Her magic was still expanded from when she caught Riddle, but it didn't seem to be up to the task, at least not alone. It took both of them, with Dolohov lifting and her guiding his body.

"That's good, you're doing great, Dolohov," she soothed as they managed to keep the prone body of the other Slytherin perfectly level as they entered the castle. He didn't reply, completely focused on maintaining his spell. Thankfully their destination was on the first floor and close by, so they didn't have to make it much further.

"Nurse! Madam! We need help please!" she called out as they entered the Hospital Wing, the matron running towards them immediately.

"What happened?" There was no judgement in her tone, it was just a straight-forward question.

"He got knocked off his broom during a Quidditch match," Dolohov explained as she checked Riddle over, both of them starting to wane the longer they kept the other teen in the air.

"Okay, it doesn't seem like he's hurt his neck or back," she concluded before gesturing towards one of the beds, "Please set him down over here." It was a relief to no longer have to support the prefect. Even with the two of them, it still strained her already sore magic and body.

"You did great, children. Now please give me some privacy while I help him," she requested as she began to look over his condition, prodding where necessary.

"Actually, Madam, I can't feel my arms," she brought up sheepishly, which the matron seemed not to believe, while Dolohov just looked concerned.

"Take a seat on the next bed over then, I'll check on you when Mr. Riddle here is stabilized," she ordered before returning to the unconscious body on the bed in front of her.

"Dolohov, there's nothing you can do for us right now," she reassured the boy, as he was still hovering nearby anxiously, "Why don't you go back and watch the end of the match? And when it's over, remember to bring Riddle's clothes back from the locker room, okay?" He just nodded, clearly not able to string a sentence together currently. But Hazel had faith that he would be able to update the others on what was going on.

"How is he, Madam?" she asked after a while, once the nurse had begun to mix potions and cast spells.

"He'll live. He has three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and one nasty concussion, not to mention extensive bruising, but he should be good as new in a few days, just in time for Halloween too," she explained, ending on a cheerful note.

"That's good," she replied thoughtlessly as she began to dissociate. The pins and needles in her arms was beginning to become sharp, more intense. It wasn't much longer before she was fidgeting, trying to relieve the pain.

"Ms. Walker?" the Madam asked in concern as she noticed Hazel's discomfort.

"The numbness is fading, it hurts," she explained, almost crying, before she started screaming as she reached her threshold, "It hurts! Merlin!"

"Shhh, I'm here," she comforted, using some complex spell to scan her arms, "How did you manage to tear both of your biceps?"

"Please, just make the pain go away, please, please, make it stop," was all she could say, whimpering and crying in a way she hadn't in a long time. She had never felt pain like this before, it was unbearable. Everything else faded away until her world was just agony. It was amazing when it only took one potion from the matron to take the pain away. Well, she couldn't really feel any part of her body anymore, but she'd take it.

"It'll take the night to fix those tears, given how delicate the muscles can be, but you can be out of here by tomorrow morning. You'll be sore for a few days, and you may not regain your normal range of motion immediately; but you should be fine," she explained as she began to cast similar spells on her arms to the ones she had used on the prefect.

"Thank you, Madam," she mumbled, moderately ashamed the woman had seen her in such a state. Once she was finished treating them, the matron looked exhausted. She said some parting words that Hazel didn't catch before dimming the lights in the wing and leaving. She was only gone for maybe 10 minutes when the boy next to her began to stir.

"Riddle? You alive over there?" she asked as he came to, watching in fascination as he seemed to be fighting against his own eyelids.

"Of course you're here," he groaned lowly, very clearly on whatever painkilling potion the matron had given her earlier, "What happened?" And she didn't know why she was surprised that he didn't know, given that he hadn't even saw what hit him. It just seemed unnatural, a Riddle that didn't know everything.

"You got knocked unconscious by one of the Gryffindor Beaters, and then fell off your broom," she summarized, to which he growled something under his breath. She couldn't tell if he was cursing the Gryffindors or promising revenge upon the Beater, but it definitely wasn't good.

"What's the damage?"

"Three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a concussion," she listed, cringing with each one.

"That's not too bad," he realized, especially compared to what had happened, "Why are you here? Surely you aren't just keeping me company."

"I tore both of my biceps slowing your fall. As it happens, you're fucking heavy," she explained with a grimace, as if she could almost feel the weight of Riddle on her magic again.

"I didn't ask you to do that," he mumbled snootily, ever the prideful one.

"Would you rather I had let you break your neck?" To which he had no response, so she took it as a win.

"Is that my blanket?" he changed the topic, raising an eyebrow. And she hadn't even realized that she was still wrapped in his blanket from the Quidditch stands, but it would explain why she was so cozy.

"Yep," she confirmed, making sure to pop the P obnoxiously.

"So, are you going to tell me about how you can use wandless magic, and why you've been hiding it?" he finally asked the question that had been weighing on them both before diving into his analysis, "I've surmised that it has something to do with the Native American teacher that visited you yesterday, as they don't use wands and thus rely on wandless magic, but you are too proficient at it to only have studied it for a few years."

"It's none of your business," she responded curtly.

"Very well," he allowed just as tersely before gaining the upper hand, "I am going to cash in my final question from the kitchen."

"I had hoped you would forget about that," she sighed regretfully, leaning back on the mountain of pillows behind her.

"No such luck. Now remember, you have to answer me honestly and completely," he reminded her, already extinguishing her hope of only telling him the bare minimum.

"Yeah, yeah; ask your question. And it can't be two questions in one, so take your pick," she specified, as she could tell he was going to try and pull a fast one on her.

"Well, aren't you getting smarter?" he sneered before wording his question exactly as he intended it, "How are you so proficient at wandless magic?"

"When I first arrived to Ilvermorny, it quickly became apparent that my magic was too unstable for a wand. None chose me, and every wand I tried to use exploded instantly. So I had to learn how to control my magic, and in doing so, I was able to perform wandless magic. I had never used a wand until the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class," she answered, with the prefect listening to her intently.

"So that's what Malfoy was showing you in the corner of the room, the wand movements. So he also knows about your ability to perform wandless magic," he realized. She hadn't even been aware that he was watching them at the time, and it was a bit unnerving.

"Exactly," she confirmed, not that he needed it.

"How is your magic so unstable?" He sounded fascinated, and it was oddly flattering. But rather than tell him the truth, that no one knew why her magic was so different, she decided to annoy him.

"I'm terribly sorry, but you're out of questions," she denied him savagely, getting a dark look in response.

"Why don't you just answer me? Save us both the trouble when we know I'm just going to find out all of your little secrets eventually," he attempted to be charming, which she will admit was a clever tactic given that it made her blush.

"Where would be the fun in that?" she teased, batting her eyelashes in return.

"The more you hide from me, the more I want to expose you," he warned darkly, and she wasn't exactly sure how to take that. It was a threat, but there was also an insinuation.

"Why can't you just let things be?" she groaned, which only made him smirk.

"Because where would be the fun in that?" he repeated her own sentiment back at her before trying again, "How about this; why did you save me? I mean, you even injured yourself in the process, but still you didn't stop."

"This may come as a surprise to you, Riddle, but I'm not like you. I couldn't just sit there and do nothing when I had the ability to save you," she asserted, which was the truth. She would've done the same if it had been anyone else, he wasn't special. At least that's what she told herself.

"How very Gryffindor of you," he said disdainfully, though she could tell he was trying to hide a smirk.

"Aren't Slytherins supposed to watch after each other?" she pointed out in return.

"Are you really a Slytherin though?" he challenged. It stung more than she expected it too. She had been here for two months now, but she hadn't been year since first year and it still showed.

"The sorting hat seemed to think so," she maintained haughtily, but they both knew that she wasn't completely confident.

"That doesn't mean it's never been wrong before," he scoffed in return.

"How are you even more of an ass when high on pain medication?" she hissed, and he blinked as it occurred to him that he may have actually crossed the line and made her angry. The fact that he hadn't meant to calmed her down, but it also hinted at his lack of real social skills. Riddle was oddly still in control for a teenager on pain medication, but he seemed more talkative than normal. Hazel found herself more affected by the potion, almost like everything was easier in a way.

"And we aren't as different as you think," he said casually, as if they hadn't just been bantering. It took her a second to think back on what he was referring to, but she didn't understand what he was trying to get at.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Who do you think snapped you out of it when you were frozen in front of your Boggart? Who do you think was watching from the Astronomy tower when you arrived back on an invisible creature?" She could almost feel all her thought processes screech to a grinding halt as she tried to make sense of his words. She couldn't ask for proof, she knew he wouldn't tell the truth if she asked him why; she didn't know what to do with the revelation.

"You can't see the Thestrals?" was all she could think to ask. It sounded rather dumb not that she had voiced the words, but Riddle seemed intrigued by her response.

"You can?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, and she mentally cursed herself for giving that away, "You never cease to surprise me, Ms. Walker." It was an actual compliment, with something like begrudging respect behind it. She didn't say anything else, swearing to herself that she would stop opening her mouth if she couldn't think through the consequences of what came out of it. But the other Slytherin didn't seem to be on the same page, as he just kept talking.

"Can I have my blanket back? It's freezing in here, and I don't think the Madam is coming back until morning," he appealed to her, though it wasn't very successful considering she was still cross with him.

"No, then I'll be cold," she decreed, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"Too bad, it's my blanket after all," he drawled with a smirk. And if Riddle thought that she would just hand it over, he had another thing coming.

"Well, you aren't really in a condition to take it from me," she snarked, putting on a show of cuddling into the soft throw.

"How about this; we can share the blanket," he offered like it was a compromise, as if she had anything to gain.

"You're still in that Quidditch gear, you probably stink," she protested, wrinkling her nose. She savagely buried the memory of how he normally smelled.

"I have three broken ribs, and you're too good to just let me lay awake all night because I'm cold," he stated, and she hated that he was right.

"You can't sleep in the first place," she muttered as she got up. It took her a second to right herself and then not fall back onto the bed from a wave of dizziness, but neither of them commented. As her arms were still out of commission, she resorted to using her leg to push her bed over until it connected with Riddle's. From there, she got back onto the cot and covered them both up. With only one good arm, the prefect wasn't any help, but at least he didn't hinder her. She settled back in, though she was very much aware of how close they were. She stared up at the ceiling, praying for sleep to take one of them.

"See, this isn't too awful, now is it?" he commented, rolling onto his side to face her. Thankfully it was his uninjured side, but he still shouldn't have been moving this much.

"Please, just pass into unconsciousness," she willed, wishing she had enough pillows to build a wall between them. He seemed to consider her request, and she almost had hope that he would just close his eyes and try to sleep. But things with the other teen were never so simple.

"It may help if you do the thing you did that one time," he suggested vaguely, and it took her a moment to decode his meaning. The only thing that he could be referring to was the night in the common room where she had started humming, and he had fallen asleep. She hadn't been aware that he had actually been lulled to sleep by the actual humming, rather than just giving into his exhaustion.

"Are you asking me to hum to you?" It sounded a bit smug, she would admit that, but she tried to actually be sincere.

"I just suggested it may help," he denied, rolling his eyes as if she was the ridiculous one. It was childish in a way, and so unlike the normal Riddle she encountered. Still, she found herself beginning the introduction of Somewhere Over the Rainbow, as she assumed he had liked The Wizard of Oz soundtrack enough last time. Hazel actually got to watch this time as his eyes drooping closed, as his breathing evened out, as his entire body relaxed. It was strangely hypnotizing, seeing the prefect lose to the temptation of sleep.

Once he was asleep, as opposed to knocked out, the charm he had been using on his face faded. She hadn't even noticed the glamour until it disappeared before her very eyes. His under-eyes were beyond bruised now, instead all the skin around his eyes was red and puffy. He also had the beginnings of a black eye from the collision, something Hazel and the nurse hadn't noticed before. His lips were chapped, and his skin was clammy. In short, he looked like he had been through hell. She wondered if he had managed to get a good night's sleep even once the last two months. She had noticed the gear he was wearing seemed too large for him when he was on the field, but it hadn't crossed her mind that maybe he was underweight. Riddle was thinner than she remembered, and she wondered how she hadn't noticed that he was eating less. The fact that he had been able to play Quidditch in his state was rather impressive, and it explained why he hadn't seen the Beater coming after him. It occurred to her that he could've been hurt so much worse, given his current frailness. He was falling apart, and no one had known, he hadn't let anyone know. How long before his mental state deteriorated as well, before he began to lash out? Who was Riddle when he lost control? She had a feeling that she didn't want to find out.

He needed a friend. Not just people to sit with or order around, he needed someone to care about him. He needed the very thing his magic had been trying to show her. Hazel didn't know if she could given him that though, at least not without losing some part of her in the process. Riddle was a black hole; once he sucked you in, there was no escape.

"Oh, this is a surprise," the Madam's voice suddenly sounded from the foot of the bed, startling her out of her thoughts violently. It took her a second to realize how this must look to the older woman, and she found her face heating up until she must've looked like a tomato.

"He was cold, and we didn't think you were coming back until morning," she explained frantically, which only made the nurse laugh.

"It's fine," she assured before her eyes caught on the new additions to Riddle, "What happened to his face?"

"His glamor faded when he fell asleep," she murmured, now aware of how loud she had been before. The last thing she needed was to wake up the boy next to her, given how much he needed the rest.

"And how are you feeling, Ms. Walker?" the matron asked after she had checked out Riddle's eye and determined that his orbital bone wasn't broken. She hadn't even known that was thing that could happen, but the more you know.

"Like I've been stretched too thin," Hazel answered honestly, allowing herself to sound as tired as she felt.

"Is there anything I can get you?" she offered sympathetically, "You both missed dinner after all." And now that she mentioned it, the Slytherin was rather peckish. The last thing she had eaten was some stew for lunch, but that seemed ages ago at this point.

"Can you summon Lola, the house elf?" she asked tentatively, not even sure that the Madam would even know who she was talking about. But thankfully it seemed like she was familiar with the elf.

"Yes, I can do that right after I make sure the spells knitting your muscles and his bones back together are holding," she assured, continuing to check them both over. It didn't take her much longer before she was leaving again, though she promised to send the house elf their way. While she laid there, the only one of them awake, she wondered where the rest of the boys were. It was possible that they hadn't been allowed back into the Hospital Wing, or that their game had gone on later than expected. It was also feasible that the game was still going on, as the match wasn't over until the Snitch was caught. She'd have to ask whenever she saw them tomorrow. It wasn't long before there was the crack of someone apparating, and suddenly Lola was there, fawning over them with concern written on her face.

"Ms. Walker! What happened? And Mr. Riddle too!" She gave the house elf an abridged story of how they had both ended up here for the night, and Lola calmed down when she realized that they would be fine. Hazel was eventually able to get to why she had asked for the other in the first place.

"Do you think you could bring us some of those tiny sandwiches and two mugs of hot chocolate?" she requested sheepishly, wanting enough food for both of them. Even if the prefect was currently asleep, she wanted to make sure he had something to eat when he woke up. She didn't allow herself to think about what she would do if he didn't have an appetite.

"It'd be my pleasure," Lola beamed before disappearing to the kitchen, presumably to prepare their food. She returned in record time, with a heaping tray of tiny sandwiches and too large mugs of steaming hot chocolate overflowing with mini marshmallows. Hazel found her mouth watering just at the sight. The house elf had gone a bit overboard, providing four different types of sandwiches, but she wasn't about to complain. It took awhile to convince the overeager kitchen aid that they didn't need anything else, but when she finally did, she could eat in peace as the elf returned to the kitchen.

She ate her sandwiches and sipped on the hot chocolate, which made her feel immediately more human. She made sure to leave plenty for the teenage boy next to her, not that she wasn't stuffed in the end. Her magic was a little slow to respond when she reached out for it, and it unraveled rather than expanded, but it still followed her directions. Reapplying Riddle's glamor, cleaning the dirt and sweat off of him and the blanket, keeping the extra sandwiches fresh and the other beverage hot; it took what little energy she had left. She was aware that she was passing out, could see the blackness closing in, but she knew she had done the right thing. She didn't know why the last thing she did before losing consciousness was grab Riddle's hand under the blanket, but she felt content as everything faded to black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm aware that I haven't updated this fic in awhile, but here is the long awaited chapter. Still not beta read, so beware of any grammar mistakes. Enjoy!

The first thing she became aware of when she woke up was two people talking in hushed voices. The next moment she was overwhelmed by Riddle's magic. Normally magic didn't have a sound, but for the first time that she had ever witnessed from the other, the prefect's magic seemed to be rattling. It was like the rattlesnakes that she had encountered in the desert, warning whoever was near of their danger. She wondered if it had been rattling during some of their confrontations, but she can only remember it acting as a constrictor. Her analysis of his magic was interrupted by something touching her hand. She opened her eyes, squinting as she adjusted to the light. She was surprised to find that the other Slytherin's hand was still holding her own, his thumb even gently stroking the back of her hand as if trying to soothe her. He was sitting up now, supported by a small mountain of pillows, but even during his adjustment he hadn't let go. It was only when she focused a bit more on the conversation that she realized it was an argument. And it wasn't that she was eavesdropping, it was just that she didn't quite have the energy or motivation to move yet. Or at least that's what she told herself.

"Mr. Riddle, I need to wake up Ms. Walker. I know you care very much-" the matron began, tense as if this had been going on for too long now, only to be cut off by the teenager. They were both too busy staring each other down to even notice that she was awake, eyes open as she watched them verbally battle each other.

"She should rest until she wakes up on her own. Wouldn't her own body know best about when she's healed and rested?" he retorted, managing to sound completely reasonable despite his almost mania.

"Well, surely she wants to go on the first outing to Hogsmeade today, and she'll need to wake up for that," she tried, only to be immediately shot down.

"Well, maybe she shouldn't go, maybe she needs to rest. Maybe she doesn't even want to go anymore." And Hazel definitely still wanted to go. Before she could speak up, the Madam was already responding in turn, scolding this time.

"It isn't your place to decide that-"

"Isn't it?" he hissed, as if it actually was. She had to admit, it made her rather uncomfortable that Riddle assumed he had so much control over her life. Her first instinct was to deny it, that she was completely independent of him. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how much she had let the other influence her actions, whether directly or as a consequence. Of course she had the ability to defy him, but that hadn't exactly worked out for her yet. Hazel found herself spiraling in doubt, questioning herself and the teen next to her. But then it occurred to her; she affected him as much as he affected her. Just looking back at the events that had led Riddle to getting put in the infirmary, he wouldn't have even been at the Quidditch game if she hadn't been there. So maybe it wasn't so bad if he had a place in her life. This was how friends worked, right? They made room for each other in their lives. Hell, she had even made sure to order the prefect some food so he could eat upon waking.

"Did you eat your sandwiches?" she impulsively asked, meeting Riddle's eyes as he immediately snapped his head towards her. Hazel found herself sheepishly smiling up at him as she realized that she had interrupted their argument, which had been over her no less.

"You woke her up," he hissed the accusation, glaring at the matron as she left smugly, task completed, before he seemed to relax as he talked to her, "Yes, I did. And I had the hot chocolate too, before you ask." He slowly let go of her hand as he spoke, as if not to draw attention to the action. She let him pretend that she hadn't noticed.

"You have to admit they're better in tiny triangles," she prodded, just to be annoying. And it worked if his snort was any indication. Hazel could even swear she saw him fighting a smile; not a smirk, but an honest to god smile.

"I wouldn't go that far-"

"Liar," she teased, too relaxed to be cautious. He narrowed his eyes at her assumed casualness, but she only blinked innocently in return.

"I'll let that slide for now. So how long have you been awake?" He sounded rather unassuming, as if her answer didn't really matter to him, but she could feel his wariness, as wrapped up in him as she was. When did this become so normal to her?

"Long enough to hear about how you apparently care about me," she taunted, without thinking of how he would react. She tensed up, prepared for an outburst but none came.

"Foolish old woman, I was merely pointing out that it wasn't her place to decide if you had rested enough," he huffed in response, as if Hazel was being just as unreasonable as the matron.

"I mean, I may be awake but I'm still exhausted. My arms are so much better, but I feel like taffy that's been stretched too far. How about you?"

"I feel fine," he answered snootily, ever the Slytherin Prince. As if he wasn't tired in every meaning of the word, as if he wasn't angry at himself and at the Gryffindor that had put him here, as if his body wasn't struggling to repair itself.

"Liar." Her accusation was whispered softly this time, disappointed rather than teasing.

"Remember our little discussion about using your magic-"

"I can't help it as long as I'm in physical contact with you," she huffed, cutting off his threat before it could really begin, "I can feel how tired you are, how your entire body feels numb right now, and how it's driving you crazy to be stuck here." Riddle looked sufficiently cowed by her words, though she could feel that he was relieved in some way that he didn't have to explain anything. But despite this, it seemed that the prefect had decided to trying and ignore her words, as if it would make them less true.

"Or we can we talk about your glamour?" she offered, receiving his infamous glare yet again, so she was hasty in explaining herself, "It slipped when you passed out, don't worry though, I replaced it; after having the matron heal your black eye of course."

"You know I don't sleep well," he retorted, as if that explained everything. And it really did in a way; everything he was experiencing could be traced back to his nightmares and self-inflicted insomnia. Hazel wasn't sure why she thought that the dreams would just stay away after that night on the couch, but it was clear now that they had only gotten worse. How much worse she didn't know, and she wasn't exactly up to sneaking another peak inside. If his last reaction had been a warning, there would be real consequences next time. And her magic still wasn't reacting quite right, so she doubted that she actually could right now.

"You seem to sleep good enough whenever-" She stopped herself as she actually thought things through. Riddle was clearly unable to find peace enough to sleep properly, but she had been present to the prefect falling asleep twice.

"No, go on, finish your statement," he challenged, a sardonic tone to his voice. She wanted to cringe, but it was clear that he wasn't going to let her off easily.

"-Whenever I'm with you."

"They've gotten worse, haven't they?" It came out as another whisper, as she voiced what she had already suspected.

"It's not your problem," he answered instead, avoiding whatever softness had been laced into her words.

"I know, but if it's in my power to help you-"

"I don't want your help." His assertion had some power behind it for the first time in this conversation, and it took her aback, how she could feel him retreating inside himself.

"That doesn't mean that you don't need it." She tried to be comforting, but it seemed to only agitate Riddle more.

"I'm completely fine without your meddling." Hazel sat up after his words, pulling herself away from where she had been touching the other until they were separated.

"Then explain to me how you didn't notice the Gryffindor coming at you? We both know you're too observant to just miss that, so there must have been something wrong. You know, like sleep deprivation. Or maybe that fact that you haven't been eating enough," she unleashed her frustration on him, trying to get him out of his denial.

"You should stop talking about things you don't understand," the prefect hissed, and she could've sworn that his words almost sounded like an actual hiss for a moment.

"I saw you without the glamour, and I've noticed the way you don't actually eat during meals," she reiterated, sighing in dejection as her words continued to make no dent on his feelings. The Slytherin was clearly about to respond rather harshly when suddenly the door to the infirmary opened, a boy stepping through.

"Oh, hey guys. I thought I'd come and see how you two are holding up," Abraxas announced as he shut the door behind him, pausing in his approach as he took in their expressions and the tense air around them, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Not at all, Ms. Walker was just cleared by Madam and about to leave," Riddle declared, though he was clearly gritting his teeth at the interruption. But he wasn't above using it to his advantage. Hazel stayed quiet as her friend sat down on the bed next to them, unable to meet his eyes as she quietly slipped out from under the blanket they were still sharing. At least she wasn't still laying down, cuddled into the other's side.

"Sorry I couldn't come sooner, but the game didn't end until way later and we didn't want to wake anyone," he explained, knowing better than to comment on anything he had witnessed.

"That's fine. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I need to get some more rest; by orders of the matron, of course." The order to leave wasn't very subtle, for both of them. She tried to maintain some level of dignity as she stood from the bed, only for her legs to quake slightly. Abraxas was quick to steady her, standing from the other bed in case she was about to completely fall. But after a moment, her strength came back enough to gently brush her friend off.

"Hazel, are you coming?" he asked as he began to head towards the door, glancing back when it was clear she wasn't following. And she wasn't even sure why she was reluctant to leave, especially given the Slytherin Prince's foul mood. But she still waved the blonde to go on without her, though she knew that he'd be waiting for her in the hall.

"We'll talk more later, okay?" It came out more hesitant than she had been intending, more of a question than an assertion. But she had lost her fire in light of his mood change, his personality change. This was the Riddle who would ruthlessly torture her if he thought she deserved it, or even if she didn't.

"Go enjoy Hogsmeade," he sneered, and he very obviously wished the opposite. Hazel was hurt by his dismissal, so instead of saying anything else, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the infirmary, ignoring the way her eyes were beginning to water.

"What was his problem?" she hissed, slamming the door behind her. Abraxas was quick to slow her down before she could stomp out into the main hallway, undoubtedly embarrassing herself.

"I think he was just tired is all," he soothed, wrapping her up in his arms. Hazel's first instinct was to resist, was to break his hold. But this was her best friend, and she needed someone who cared right now. She let herself, returning the hug and burying her face into his shoulder.

"If you say so; I don't know if I believe Riddle is human enough to feel tired," she joked dryly, smiling slightly when it made the other teen chuckle. She wasn't sure how long they stood like that, or if anyone had seen them, but she didn't really care. Eventually they parted, and he made sure she was up to the walk before they began to head in the direction of the dungeons.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, before explaining himself, "I didn't see all that happened, but I'm guessing that you overexerted your magic. Which is incredible, by the way."

"Did anyone notice me catch him?" she asked, eyes wide as she realized the implications of being caught. It wouldn't be the end of the world, but she wasn't for people to know just how odd she was yet.

"Nah, the others just thought it was a professor. But apparently you were acting weird, though they have written it off as you having an anxiety attack or something," the blonde assured, and while she wasn't sure if he was taking this seriously enough, she believed him.

"I was stupid, acting carelessly like that-"

"Hey, Riddle would've hit the ground and been much worse off if you hadn't," he interjected, something serious in his tone that she couldn't argue against. And it was true, the prefect may have been paralyzed from a fall like that. So even if she had been caught, it still would've been worth it. They continued the rest of the way in silence, collapsing onto a couch in the Slytherin common room the moment they had the chance.

"Do you still feel up to Hogsmeade?" The Malfoy heir asked the question gently, as if he didn't mind if she just wanted to stay here. But Hazel knew that he would be disappointed, given how excited he had been. And she didn't want to miss her first outing to Hogsmeade just because of Riddle's bad mood.

"Yeah, but I may need to take a few breaks here and there," she answered honestly, knowing that she had said the right thing when her friend's face lit up with glee.

"I think that can be arranged."

Riddle was all the talk of the girls in the dorm when she entered. They were gossiping as they put the finishing touches on their outfits and makeup, content to ignore her aside from a few raised eyebrows at her absence. She tried to be fast, taking a shower and getting dressed in record time. Abraxas was waiting for her anxiously at the bottom of the stairs, and she knew that if he could've, he would've been up them and dragging her along in no time. The others in their group joined them as they began their trek, except Riddle of course.

Alex couldn't help but get lost in her thoughts as they wandered around Hogsmeade. The boys were overactive, having to enter every overcrowded shop they passed. She bought herself some treats here and there, but hadn't encountered anything that called to her. But Dumbledore had given her money for the explicit purpose of buying herself a birthday gift, and it didn't feel right to just pocket the money. She ended up buying a new quill that had a spell on it so it would never run out of ink.

And then they found the bookstore. Predictably, she was the only one excited to go in, but after seeing the selection, the boys seemed to perk up a bit. While she was unable to find anything over wandless magic, she did find a book over some higher level spells and potions. She was about ready to leave when a tendril of magic reached out to her from within the shelves, pulling her through the stacks to one book in particular. It was a large volume, and it didn't really stand out among the other books on the self. It was bound in a black faded leather that made it blend in. But she knew it had called to her for a reason. She carefully picked up the book, finding it even more mysterious by the lack of a title or author anywhere on the outside. Her excitement was short lived when she opened the book, expecting something to happen, only to find the book was over herbology. She flipped through a few pages just to be sure, only finding illustrations of plants. The magic of the tome was still brushing against her own, but she couldn't think of any reason this book should have a magic of it's own. She found herself buying it anyway, at a discount for nonetheless.

Hazel had to admit that she was very much ready to return to Hogwarts. She was exhausted, and as fond as she was of her friends, their presence was becoming grating. So upon their arrival back at the castle, she headed straight for the stables. While she wasn't really recovered enough to practice her wandless magic more, she could definitely visit with the thestral for awhile.

Of course the creature was excited to see her, but he seemed to understand that she was in a weird mood. And she didn't even really know why. It was just that ever since leaving Riddle alone in the infirmary, she had felt a sort of loss or emptiness. And it definitely had nothing to do with her concern for the prefect, who at every turn only seemed to thwart her attempts to care about him. His decline in health was rather scary, especially given that she hadn't even noticed until he was hurt as a result of it. But she had to admit that she wasn't being fair, being angry at him from hiding things from her; after all, she did the same thing. It was rather hypocritical, but she found herself rather upset anyway.

"Hey lass, you've been sitting here for awhile, you want to talk about whatever's got you all tied up in knots?" a loud but soothing voice suddenly spoke from next to her, startling her out of her thoughts. She looked up to find a familiar half-giant trying to seem like he wasn't looming over her, his concern making her feel a twinge of guilt.

"Oh, hey Hagrid," she smiled weakly up at the boy as he took a seat next to her upon her acknowledgement, "And I don't want to tell anything that isn't my place to say, but I'm concerned about a friend of mine. They seem sick, but they won't let me help them." The other teen stared thoughtfully ahead of them, where Odon was rolling around on the fresh grass. It was more reminiscent of a dog than a thestral, but he seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Maybe instead of trying of impose yourself on them, you could just be there for support until they are ready for help?" Hagrid offered after a moment, his tone cautious like he didn't want to offend her, but his raised eyebrow told her that he knew her better than she thought when her instinct was to argue in return. Instead, she just sighed, silently admitting that he wasn't wrong.

"I think that they'd rather die than ever ask for my help." Hazel tried to make light of the situation, but any humor fell flat. She just couldn't force herself to pretend in front of her friend, it felt too much like lying.

"Ah, quite a stubborn person then," he chuckled, pausing for a moment as he thought about his next piece of advice, "How about letting them know you care? Even if you can't help them physically, just knowing that someone is thinking of them may improve them mentally."

"That isn't actually a bad idea," she said slowly, thinking through multiple scenarios, "It seems a bit embarrassing though." She could already see the look on Riddle's face if, when, she admitted to caring about him. He would mock her, maybe even ignore her. He would treat her just like every girl that came up to him with a confession of a crush, patronizing in a way that blame you for even having feelings.

"Since when has there ever been anything wrong with showing someone how you truly feel? Always hiding your emotions seems bad for your health too." It almost sang of naivety, of someone who had never dealt with a situation like this. But Hazel knew better, knew that Hagrid was considered an outsider for being a half giant, knew that he hadn't lived the easiest life. But he hadn't let it shape him into something twisted, like her. He had taken it in stride and become a better person because of it, someone who would help a stranger without hesitance.

"You may be right about that," she huffed with a slight smile, leaning into her friend's side, "Has anyone ever told you how amazing of a person you are, Hagrid?"

"Aw, shush up now before you make me blush," the Hufflepuff insisted, but he leaned into her as well. It was nice, this easy affection. There was no expectations, there were no eyes watching them; as much as she loved Abraxas, just his presence drew attention that she wasn't exactly fond of, the boy himself was often overbearing with his mothering tendencies.

They sat there for awhile in silence, before she stood with a groan. She waved slightly at Odon as she departed, but neither her nor Hagrid felt the need to say their goodbyes. It wasn't necessary. All of her peace seemed to disappear when she was faced with the door that was separating her from Riddle. This was a bad idea, for so many reasons. She couldn't actually see it going well, but she would feel guilty if she didn't even try after her whole conversation with the Hufflepuff. He would be disappointed in her, and she would be disappointed in herself. So she stood up as straight as possible and took a deep breath before pushing the door open, stepping into the beyond.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?" the Slytherin sneered immediately as she entered the infirmary, not even giving her the chance to speak up first. Hazel had been hoping for any change, but it would seem that he was still hostile.

"I can see that your mood hasn't improved at all," she sighed, taking a seat on the bed that she had once inhabited, now returned to its original place. He met her gaze like it was a challenge, like he was trying to see through her with a stare. And for all she knew, maybe he was, maybe he was trying to get inside her head, crack her open like an egg.

"There is nothing wrong with my mood, just the current company," he responded coldly, a glint of pleasure in his eyes when she tensed up.

"Unless you bodily remove me yourself, I'm not going anywhere," she challenged in return, leaning back casually with a faux confidence that she didn't actually have. But it made Riddle roll his eyes rather than demand she leave again, so there was some progress. They sat there in an awkward silence as she waited for the other to make the next move. It was almost surprising when he gave in, but it seemed like there was something on his mind anyway.

"How was Hogsmeade? You and Malfoy have a wonderful outing?" The prefect's words were sarcastic, poisonous. There was a bite behind them, and she had to stop herself from snapping in return. He was hurting, so he was lashing out. She needed to be the better person here.

"It was a pretty cool place, I have to admit," Hazel began with a calmness that she didn't know she possessed, like she actually wanted to talk to him about her day, "But I wasn't really interested in the places the boys wanted to frequent, and the only shop I was excited about, they were reluctant to even enter."

"And what kind of shop was that?" Riddle was trying to maintain his aloofness, but she caught a hint of genuine curiosity. She had to fight down a smile at her perceived victory.

"A bookshop." There was a pause, like he didn't quite believe her.

"You have access to Hogwart's library, and you got excited over a measly bookshop?" He obviously couldn't tell if she was lying or if she was just that odd.

"Of course," she agreed warmly, which he clearly hadn't been expecting if his startled expression was any indication, "I've never really had much in the ways of my own possessions, so being able to buy a book for myself felt important in a way. And it wasn't a measly bookshop, it was beautiful." After her honesty, he fell silent, as if she had chided him. There was even a chance that he actually felt bad for being such a sourpuss.

"Maybe next trip to Hogsmeade, you can visit it with me so the others won't have to endure the suffering of entering a bookshop?" she offered when it was clear that he wasn't going to continue the conversation himself. She worded it less like an invitation and more like a favor, which he was definitely more inclined towards.

"If you insist," he huffed, rolling his eyes as if she was being ridiculous, but he looked more relaxed now than he had been since their moment this morning. But she knew that underneath that glamour, there was still sickly pale skin and sunken cheeks. And even now she realized how hungry she was. But Hazel didn't want to cut this moment short, not now that things were going better. And after spending the day in Hogsmeade, she didn't think she could really handle the Great Hall.

"Have you eaten yet? I was supposed to get dinner with Abraxas, but I don't think I want to be surrounded by so many people and sounds right now." She tried to sound like it didn't matter what his answer was, but she clearly failed when something skeptical and analytical sparked on his face.

"You make it sound as if you aren't feeling well."

"I'm feeling fine," she answered reflexively, only to immediately correct herself when she flinched at her own lie, "Well, actually, if I'm telling the truth, I've been worried about you all day." But instead of Riddle appreciating her opening up, he seemed to close up before her eyes. Like a shutter was falling across his face, hiding all emotions underneath.

"You should save your fake concern for Malfoy." It was completely apathetic, a complete change from his earlier venom. Hazel could almost swear that she needed to be treated for whiplash as well after this day.

"Okay," she agreed quietly, unable to withhold eye contact anymore, hurt at the accusation. She just wanted to disappear, from this situation, from this room, from Hogwarts entirely.

"No, I have not eaten yet," he eventually sighed, though he was watching her reaction intensely when she lifted her gaze again, "Make yourself useful and call up the house elf you seem so fond off and order us some food." She realized the olive branch for what it was and called out for the one elf that she knew would always be listening. And without a minute to spare, the other appeared in a puff of smoke, a gleaming smile on her face as she took them in.

"Miss Walker! How are you feeling? What can Nola do for you?"

"I'm good, all healed up," she chuckled in response to the house elf's enthusiasm, "And do you think that you could get us some dinner?"

"Of course, right away Miss!" And just as quickly as she had appeared, Nola was gone, presumably to whip them up something to eat. The Slytherin found herself staring at the space that the other had just occupied with a fond smile. The house elf reminded her of a maternal figure, something that the girl hadn't had in a very long time.

"The gall of that house elf to not even acknowledge me," Tom huffed, cheeks red as if it actually bothered him. And Hazel found herself surprised that maybe the prefect really was offended at being ignored.

"Aww, are you jealous that I'm her favorite?" she teased, though she meant nothing by it. She was quite aware that Nola didn't have a favorite out of the two of them.

"Stop being so childish, it isn't suitable for a respectable witch," he demanded with narrowed eyes, which only caused her to giggle in excitement. This felt normal, this felt more like their usual banter that she had been sorely missing.

"Childish like being jealous that she prefers me to you?"

"Like the opinion of a house elf matters to me," he sneered. And it bothered her that he wasn't just joking, that he meant what he said.

"I think it does. And it should. Everyone's opinions should matter, no matter how much we disagree with them. Well, it's more like everyone has the right to have their own opinions," she rambled, leaning back on the bed until she was looking straight up, as it was easier to state her opinions without watching how Riddle immediately judged them.

"Not everyone. People, beings, lower than us don't matter. House elves, muggles, mudbloods; they deserve nothing in this world. And you still think that everyone deserves to have opinions? What about if they believe that genocide is just? If their opinions aren't moral?" Wasn't it just like him to try and goad her into agreeing with him, into proving his point with her very words. But Hazel saw through his little trap, though she did find herself becoming irritated.

"Opinions change, especially when they are molded by the peers we surround ourselves with. It's the actions we take that determine if we are moral," she stated thoughtfully, but when she continued, she couldn't help but snap at the prefect, "And I'm surprised that someone as smart as you would be stupid enough to think that those people are lower beings than you."

"Thoughts can be just as evil as actions, I would know. And I know what muggles are like, they are ignorant, moronic, and weak. So thus anyone descended just from muggles are the same, if not worse for spreading their genes in an otherwise pure world," he hissed, and when she sits up, she could almost swear that there was a glimmer of ruby red in those normally black eyes. He looked fanatic, an ugly expression of hatred on his face that made her stomach uneasy.

"And wizards can't be those things too?" Hazel was saved from his sure to be scathing response by the return of Nola, who appeared with a grand tray of food.

"Sorry for the intrusion, Miss, but here is the dinner! There's tiny sandwiches and soup if the Miss wanted something light, but there's also some American foods that the Miss should find familiar!"

"Thank you, Nola," she thanked politely when it was clear her companion wasn't going to. Before taking her leave, the house elf turned towards the other Slytherin with something warm in her expression despite her earlier rudeness.

"Nola hopes that Mr. Riddle has a speedy recovery! Especially with Miss Walker by his side!"

"I told you that house elves are below us in intelligence," Riddle gritted out once Nola had disappeared. And this, this disrespect towards the house elf was the final straw. Nola was a good person, and even though she was a house elf and obligated to serve them, she did so willingly and eagerly, with care and respect. And to hear this hateful boy speak badly of the person who had just gone out of their way to bring them foods, it was too much.

"Stop being a prick or I'll-"

"You'll what? Hex me?" he interrupted her empty threat that she hadn't even thought through with a challenge. As if he didn't believe that she'd actually put herself on the line to defend the house elf, like she was just making a show of being upset.

"You know what, maybe you were right and I should leave. You are still in a crabby mood from this morning, and I'm done with putting up with it." She sat there with her arms crossed, chest heaving as she tried to control her anger. But Riddle didn't back down, didn't apologize or even backtrack. No, instead he goaded her further.

"What a threat, I'm just shivering in my bed." He said it with a smirked, which quickly fell from his face when she abruptly stood up, marching towards the exit.

"Where do you think you're going?" he called out from behind her with something dangerous in his voice, and she didn't dare turn around, no matter how bad of an idea it was to turn her back to the volatile Slytherin.

"I'm going to go spend time with Abraxas, instead of wasting it here with you," she threw back, lying through her teeth as she threw the heavy door open.

"Insolent witch!" His scream of anger was the last thing she heard before she slammed the door shut behind her, running from it like there was a fire on her heels.

Riddle was released that same day shortly afterwards, likely forcing the matron to release him so he could hunt her down, but Hazel avoided him like the plague. Instead, she took her very late and measly dinner up to the Owlery and shared the meat from the sandwiches with the hawk that the shaman had gifted her a few days earlier, Cetan. He was slow to warm up to her, but it just more so that he was rather wary of humans. He had an attitude to him, similar to Odon, but he was colder and sharper. But he seemed to perk up when she presented him with the first letter that she had written to Mr. Coyote, excited about the prospect of a journey. It seemed that being cramped up in the Owlery had also put a damper on his mood, but she hoped that she could get permission soon to allow him to fly freely on the grounds of Hogwarts.

She ached to go to the Room of Requirement and work her frustration out, but with her magic still protesting any stress, she didn't want to risk any permanent damage to herself. Her birthday was so close, and yet here she was, hiding in a tower by herself. Damn Riddle, driving her crazy. But Hazel just couldn't handle anymore of his anger and foul opinions tonight, especially after walking out on him like she did. She had told herself that she would be his friend, but sometimes he was just so toxic to be around that she couldn't help but run away.

Hazel wondered what her birthday would be like this year. She could vaguely remember celebrating it as a child, a dark room illuminate by candles atop a tiered cake, with her parents singing to her with smiles on their faces. It hurt, trying to reconcile that memory with the one of when she left home for the first and last time. No child should know what it means to be unwanted, so maybe that was why she was so desperate to accept, and even seek out, the attentions of someone like Tom Riddle.

Sometimes she wished she wasn't a witch at all, that maybe she could've been happy having a simple life with no magic. She wouldn't have been an outcast, she wouldn't have been rejected, she wouldn't have killed that girl.

"Walker?" a soft voice suddenly spoke up, startling her for a second time that day. Except, instead of finding her gentle half giant friend, there was an equally familiar but unexpected face.

"Oh, hey Lestrange," she muttered, moving to hastily wipe at her eyes, where tears had been pooling in her whirlwind of emotions. Lestrange seemed like the type who would just turn tail and return from whence he came, awkwardly leaving her to her solitude, but he surprised her when he plopped down next to her on the dirty Owlery floor.

"I know this isn't any of my business, but are you okay?" It was earnest and free of all judgement, radiating pure concern as he stared at her. She found it easier to meet his gaze, reading him carefully for any hidden contempt or pity or mocking. But he just waited patiently, not pushing the matter as they sat there.

"Just thinking about my birthday," she murmured eventually, to which he only hummed in response.

"I'd venture to say that when you said you hadn't celebrated it for years, there was a reason behind that? You know, if you don't want to-" He was more observant than she gave him credit for, smarter than he let on.

"No, I want to, I promise. It's just that-," she had to pause to try and sort out what she wanted to say next, "It's just that I don't associate happy memories with it." In the back of her mind, she could remember the rest of her birthdays. The ones spent with the headmaster of Ilvermorny, the ones spent with tutors who didn't even bother to know her name, the ones spent alone in dark rooms as they tried to teach her how to shut out all her emotions.

"Well, maybe we can change that for you," he offered optimistically, with a gentle smile on his face that was very rare for anyone to see. It was warm and personal, far from the Lestrange that she encountered everyday in class and at meals. But maybe she just hadn't been paying enough attention.

"Thanks, Lestrange. You aren't so bad after all," she teased, though she was sincere in her gratitude, which she knew he knew.

"What's that supposed to mean!" he yelled, scandalized, but smiling to show that he was in on the joke, on her longstanding torment. They were interrupted when suddenly a red figure swooped down in front of them to land on a perch nearby. It was the hawk, anxious to start his task of delivering her first letter, which was still on the floor with her half eaten dinner.

"Oh, hello, I haven't seen you here before," Lestrange cooed at the bird, eyes shining as he took in the rather impressive messenger. Hazel could almost swear that Cetan puffed up with pride in response to the attention. But it made sense now that her friend here was the type to come to the Owlery in secret to visit with the owls and other birds, probably his version of his alone time away from everyone else.

"May I introduce you to Cetan," she announced, waving at the hawk who seemed to take that as a cue to jump off his perch, snatching up the letter at her side impatiently before taking off into the night sky. He was clearly showing off for the new company, but it was nice to see that he had accepted her.

"He's yours? I thought you didn't have a pet?"

"Well, he's not really a pet," she corrected quickly, imagining all her progress with Cetan going out the window if he were to hear himself being called a pet, "But he was an early present from Mr. Iktomi."

"That man has great taste," he sighed in admiration of her mentor, before continuing with a chuckle, "But I guess I shouldn't be surprised given that you were the girl who rode off on a thestral." And that gave her a pause, as she thought through all the implications of his words, of him purposefully letting that slide.

"You knew it was a thestral?" she asked slowly, more so for confirmation.

"Well, yeah, I was there when we found you and that Hufflepuff was taking it back to the stables." He rolled his eyes as if it was obvious, and she took the hint not to ask anything more about it with grace.

"That Hufflepuff is named Hagrid," she chided gently, though there was something sharp to her tone. After the Riddle incident with Nola, she was a bit sensitive.

"I've never caught his name," he murmured petulantly, showing that he didn't mean any disrespect, which had her immediately calming down. It was odd, how well he was able to read her. Had he always been able to? Was he just the type who could read people well? Hazel herself didn't have that talent, due to her stunted social skills.

"You know, I think is the first time we've ever talked one on one before," she stated the realization aloud as she thought about their relationship, staring out at the night sky. It seemed so much closer up here, at the top of the tower, like she could just reach out and hold a star in her hand.

"You're always surrounded by Riddle or Abraxas, never really had the opportunity," he pointed out with a shrug, staring off into space like it held answers to whatever questions were in his head, "But I've wanted to, ever since that first day when you were the new transfer student that sat down with us."

"Really?" She snapped her head to look at him in surprise, both at the words and that he had admitted them. He blushed slightly at the attention, so she dialed it down a bit.

"You are the first girl to not be interested in us because of our families or because we are Riddle's companions. It's refreshing," he explained, talking with his hands like he was nervous. But he was honest, even without using her magic she could tell. There was no gain or motive for him to lie, and he seemed almost sad at his own words.

"I've never really had friends before," she found herself admitted in returning, this time surprising a wide eyed reaction out of him.

"You must be joking," Lestrange muttered, but he clearly believed her, a thoughtful look on his face as he processed the new information.

"Nope," she confirmed, popping the 'P' just to be obnoxious, "Before, I didn't really get a chance to connect with my peers. So imagine how it felt when I sat down with you guys and everything seemed to just click." And it felt like he could actually put himself in her shoes as he clearly remembered the event that had brought them together. And in turn, she thought about how lonely it must've been, how isolating it would've been, to only be given attention by people who sought to use you; after all, she could relate. But she didn't dare admit that here, not now.

"Well, those other peers of yours didn't, don't, deserve you, Ms. Hazel Walker," he assured her with a charming smile, though she could tell he meant it, could hear the conviction in his voice. And she beamed back at him in response, something in those words freeing her in a way. Yeah, she had been different, dangerous, but she had also been mistreated. If she had met this group of friends beforehand, before everything happened, how different would they all be for it? None of them would've had to be lonely, they could've been together through all their shit. Her thoughts floated to less turbulent imaginings the longer they sat there in a comfortable silence, until she began to yawn, the day catching up with her. Lestrange seemed to be waiting on that, immediately groaning and shivering like he had been pretending to be unaffected by the chill of the stone under them.

"Can we please go inside now, I think I'm sitting in bird crap."


End file.
